CROWE · 13
HOME Emma Crowe There’s There’s There’s There’s There’s There’s
a beehive hanging from my uvula. a spider spinning webs between my skull and brain tissue. poison ivy cooking around my intestines. a chandelier of cocoons cemented to my ribs. red ants convening under my tongue. weeds emerging from the disks in my spine.
There’s a whole ecosystem spreading across my surface — foliage replacing follicles. There’s no need to put up a fight. The seeds were there before I was. At least what was once flesh is now home.
