Two Poems by Jesse Rice-Evans






Shiny Happy People

after Grey’s Anatomy S6E22


You were you, you were steadfast in

the way you kept your feelings rippling

at the surface, how my eyebrows


How when you felt a feeling, I let you,
instead of clamoring back up, for a reason,
we become a thing together, if we both agree to it


Day one, you understood me, where my edge begins camouflaged well behind these $90 jeans, they arrived in

a sleek plastic box and I was charmed by the package I will admit it I am susceptible to marketing like any other human with blood and plasma, the extra meat of my body does not feel aside from more body means

more soft tissue to get wound up like a piano wire, more locations to nest into, springs of fascia I scrape across the porous oiled edge of my sternum


My bodyworker hefts her knuckles between my slipped ribs, kneads the joint between chest and cavern of pit just beneath, fists thumbs up and underneath some invisible thread of


If most of you stings underwater, hovers and floats, its belly, its heart brimming with how someone hit you before


Everything else is just bumps and bruises 






Immersive Empathy


It becomes another burden: that which is not revealed

   - Sara Ahmed


To make sense of it through writing,

the newness of establishing ourselves

free, trained, investigative


Demanding, knowing I'd have

to prove myself very much and

the more I interrogate the more


adventurous I become, the sickness

spreading in and out of great long

corridors the coats inhuman, building


a revelation, empathic and; Since we

broke up, I am wearing lipstick again;

I nourish, nourish 








Jesse Rice-Evans is a queer Southern writer based in Brooklyn. An enthusiastic Leo/Cancer/Aries, her work has appeared in tons of great journals, including Deaf Poets Society, Bad Pony, Moonchild, and Wussy. Reach her on Twitter & Instagram @riceevans

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