I spin fast and fall
into freshly vacuumed
ceilings.            Here,

they call me Mirror, Mirror
& treat my body
like a frame

they can’t hang
straight & I yank out
hair like exorcisms.

Their mansions & mine
hold hands in quiet
seance & wait

for the wake of ectoplasm
in the form of stars
in the form

of the girl who’s gone
missing from her Kansas
city trailer & whose Mama

calls Justine, if you can hear
me, come home so my peripheral
might stop smelling  

your body in the corpses of leaves.
All the while my name is
changed like the wet

infant left on the pavement
at daybreak & now they
call us both       baby. 

Kailey Tedesco believes poetry is the closest thing we have to magic. She received her MFA from Arcadia University, and she is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of Rag Queen Periodical, an omnifem e-zine. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and a member of the Poetry Brothel. Additionally, she has written for Luna Luna Magazine and Hello Giggles. Her poetry can be found or forthcoming in FLAPPERHOUSE, Poetry Quarterly, Prick of the Spindle, The Bellevue Literary Review, and more. For more information, please visit