Tonight's Poet Corner: Trance

Trance
by Belinda Roddie

Look at me: The way the white
in the ceiling reflects across
my vacant, tunnel eyes. There's
no color left to gaze into; see,
even the iris has turned to glass.

Piece by piece, I've broken away
from your touch. Fingernails
digging into skin just below
the knuckles. Fist aimed for
an exposed thigh. The urge to

punish myself is reckless. The need
to punish myself is addictive.

This has to be the end, doesn't it?
All the pages I've stitched together,
they're out of order, their ink smudged,
like I can't focus on the words. Like
I'm hypnotized. I've descended into

a vortex built out of shallow fears
and popcorn plaster, yet every tooth
in its mouth is sharpened by something
more vexing and more dangerous. Please
tell me if I'm bitten - I may not notice.