Julia Bortolussi

Mask

the colour pink,
soft rosy hues, too girl-ish
for the mold i was growing into
i could not wear it.
defiant--you will not tell me
what i should abide by.
the low roof of a treehouse,
wood splintering into the shape of a roof
ducking, squinting against fresh sawdust
my lanky body crunched under the four by fours
met with unsure stares, i am quick to leave
to wither under the bright sun of the open sky.
a name that did not rhyme with my heart
falling from lips, meeting a wall
stinging like a cow’s branding
permanently pressed under my skin.
this name is not my cross to bear,
i do not know it.
these, of all things, are not you
you are blooming flowers and an open fire
you rip the seams of a too-tight tee
and walk topless because you can
what is freedom?
you’ve tasted it all your life;
the swift minty kick
of not having to apologize

Fire

i hope to become the soil after perishing
and join the earth in her raging revenge against the masses

i want to lay my fangs along the thorns of roses
to capture the groping hands impressed upon my petals

at its centre, the earth is less than beautiful:
solid molten heat, solidified with seething pressure

in my essence, i can feel the earth’s hidden malice inside
sweltering and swollen, pulling sanity into its hold

so when the land sparks aflame and takes down the trees humanity killed,
know that the singeing inferno was born from this same core

the one which burned brightly under your watch, as you
threw gasoline on my soaking and shuddering self

Julia Bortolussi was the founding Head of Design for IntroSPECtion in addition to producing regular contributions. Her work has been published in Serendipity, All My Relations, and Messy Misfits Club Zine. She is in her fourth year of Creative Writing & Publishing at Sheridan College