Aubrie Marrin

PHARMACOPOEIA

Whatever ward this is, I open

every door.

Chicken-wire sky, safety glass,

I watch

the systems fail. Flow out, poison,

come forth—

Horus holds a mossy human

skull,

crab eyes and pearls. He will spit

you out

good. Who do you think you are

anyway, inside

the uterine cavity, on the intestines even,

how you appear

and flourish, appear and flourish

with your own

blood supply, with teeth until there are

mouths

inside me, tetracycline pebbles

chattering

all hell. When we found you, we found

ourselves,

the complicated body. Think of my heart

like a hose

with too much pressure shooting

through it.

Using like or as. Do thou nothing there

against.

I take the blue and yellow pill, I wear

my dress,

I keep me safe behind

the glass.

Aubrie Marrin’s poems have appeared in many publications, including Guernica, Harp & Altar, Sink Review, The Literary Review, Horse Less Review, and Colorado Review. Her chapbook, "Terrible + Powerful + Wondrous" was recently published by Horse Less Press, and she was also a finalist for the 2012 Cleveland State University Poetry Center First Book Prize. Raised in upstate New York, she currently lives and works in Brooklyn.