TOAD
i take a pin, press it into the hollow crease of my belly button,
bloody my lip to silence its injection
the pin grows a stain of purple around its entry point,
squats neatly between my folded skin
it keeps hold of all the things i do not want to lose,
memories, artefacts, things i cannot say out loud
i often touch its head, the comfort of it cold under my finger,
my body slick and fertile, acid yellow seeping like a whisper
my secrets hardening behind the chrysalis of skin,
my stomach dry mud, pond-scented
Rochelle Roberts is a writer and editor from London. Her poetry, non-fiction and reviews have been published by Perverse, Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, Postscript, Streetcake Magazine, Tentacular and The Droth, amongst others, as well as in the book Cusp: Feminist Writing on Bodies, Myth & Magic (Ache, 2021). She has guest edited issues of The Modernist Review and The Debutante, and in 2020 published a zine of short writings and photography called Pooling. Her debut pamphlet is forthcoming with Broken Sleep Books in April 2022.