Rebound Girl by Elizabeth Russell (Utah)

The wicks at the ends of the candles drool lines of wax 
                                                                                         along your skin, 
ash from somewhere nestles into your esophagus, 
                        shovels parcels of decay against your uvula, 
                                             your mouth backed up to the teeth.


Good luck 
breathing.

                                                                    You use your nose. I guess you’re clever like that. 
You could always light the wicks and see see whether the wax burns you what happens, 
as bone-deep as that girl from the career fair 
                      with a gap in her pearlescent teeth and a beauty mark under oyster shell eyes. I brought a box of matches with me 
                                                      in case you were interested, in case you wanted to run 
an experiment between yourself and the carcinogen. 
                                  They’re shoulder-bruise blue to match your eyes with a red sulfur head  
and your mouth. If anyone asks, 
                                                the wicks are syrup-sweet 
                                                 with kerosene. The candle wax 
                 is scented Lazy Weekends, but I scribbled over the label without permission. It says I’ll be your rebound now. 
                                                I hope we outlast the transition, 
                                                                                                                     wonder where you buy your candles.



Elizabeth Russell (she/her) grew up in Vancouver, Washington, but now lives in Logan, Utah. Her published work can be found in Imagined Ink 2020, The Swift 2023, and Basil Payne’s 2024 Accessible Poetry Art Exhibition. She was nominated for the McCordic Talent Award for Creative Writing in 2023.


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