Danielle Bongiovanni

Enchanted, Intangible

They ask how I want to look and I imagine
Gliding a blade along the gaps between my ribs
Until the skin gapes pink and raw like a fish,
Like the gills of a mermaid in an old painting.

I try to decide what to wear each morning and I imagine
Existing as ultraviolet light, off the spectrum,
Out of sight and mind, untouchable,
Shining brilliantly for myself alone.

My friend applies my makeup with a steady hand and I imagine
Kissing her softly on the lips and vanishing,
Like a fairytale creature revealing its true form
To the pure-of-heart maiden before slipping back into the woods.

Mirror Maze

I lost myself in a mirror maze last night.
One moment I was fighting insomnia,
The next the pillows fell out from under me.
I wandered, and as I grew more frantic
I kept hitting the glass
Like a bird against the window, over and over,
Like a heart against a rib cage.

Once calm, I decided it I was dreaming,
Some subconscious metaphor about the difference
Between reflection and projection.
I grew tired of searching and decided
There is none, or if there is
You'd have to peel away the silver backing to get to it.

I turned a corner and found a figure
With no reflection. She asked,
"Will you carry this for me?"
I asked them back, "What do you think?"
And before shattering he replied,
"Does it really matter
If you can never put it down?"

I woke up with shards in my hands.

I think I'm losing my mind a bit,
Or finding it as I rearrange the reflective fragments like puzzle pieces
Trying to decide how to portray the final picture
Without seeming too proud,
Too insecure, too in or outside my own head.

I'm pressing palm to glass palm, cheek to glass cheek,
Closing my eyes and savoring the cold surface.

Love without Question

Mourn for the caterpillar and its chrysalis.
This tidy transformation, hidden from view,
Is heavy with melancholy finality when compared
To the infinite reservoir of selves you hold.

Discard ill-fitting layers like leaves in winter,
Never settle for less than pure comfort.
Shed your skin again, again, again-
Let me be the sharp stone you use.

Press new syllables into my mouth
And I will breathe them into yours with reverence.
Any combination can be the prettiest sound
When it's connected to your smile.

 Static, sterile love suffocates on display.
Change everything but your heart,
Find untold delights in expression,
And my adoration will only grow.

Danielle Bongiovanni (he/she/they) cannot decide between becoming a writer or a scientist, so they picked both. Her work has appeared in Trillium, Apprentice Writer, and You Might Need To Hear This. He enjoys fantasy, sci-fi, and local journalism, but likes to keep them separate as much as possible.