Poetry: Frankie by Joe Haward

Frankie

The yellow river of bile stung her throat.

Distended stomach

Sarcastic in mirrored mime

Laughing at the futility.

 

She strains her body

Every sinew searching the extremities

Ballet master vomiting obscenities

Teetering on the pointe of darkness.

 

Hidden meetings

Secrets shared.

“Name it,” the psychologist urges.

“Frankie.” His name panacea and poison.

 

“Fat,” Frankie murmurs, his voice excoriating

Chuckling with glee

“Fuck off, Frankie,” she whispers

Fabricated indomitability.

 

The stage is set

The chasm of perfection devouring

Craving the crowd to feast upon her

Id’s compulsion overwhelming.

 

Fevered rest

Ritual prohibition

A splash on bathroom’s altar

“Well done,” Frankie purrs.

Joe Haward is the author of two nonfiction books that explore the intersection between humanity, faith, film, and culture. As a horror writer, poet, freelance journalist, and book reviewer, his work has appeared, and is upcoming across multiple sites, in various anthologies and publications, including Byline Times, Cinnabar Moth Publishing, Ghost Orchid Press, Horror Oasis, Cosmic Horror Monthly, and Outcast Press.