Three Poems by Izzy Dimiceli

alien brain

i have that!
it must be why i
feel so particularly
inhuman and yet
i hold knowledge
like anyone else.
imagine me, green,
tri-eyed, in a pizza
parlor vending machine!
instead i was afforded
this girlish body and
made to think i was
just a person.
it must be why i
don't recognize
myself in security
cameras. it must
be why i keep trying
to learn. love is held
in the stray hairs
missed by my wax
and petal pink tweezers,
i can't gather why
we're all so quick to
rid of it. picture clouds,
picture the sky. now go!
see it! why don't we grasp
this sphere of dirt harder?
two bruised plums on
my chest, a mophead
of frizz struggling to
control itself protruding
from my scalp.
my neck cranes so
naturally towards the
sky at night, so easily
dejected by cloud cover.
is it oblivious or

oblivion?
perhaps i am both.

i'll know i'm lovable once i'm loved

fresh-bitten skin

hanging like an angel

wing off my thumb

i blow out my candles

and wish for you to

wish for me

i wanna oil my body's

cogs and tighten the

screws

i wanna see your pupils

dilate at the sight of me

i peek out your pantry door,

i wan

na have control

i can only run so far

for so long

can you smell my sweet

perfume?

oh,

i wish you could from over there

my fingerprints cover

the glass separating us

i wish you could

After Radiohead

sometimes i dream my limbs are other things

IF my arms turn/ed to blades,

i’d be cut/ting fruit at the lo/cal

sa/lad bar.

IF my legs turned to

pens, the ball/points at my feet,

i’d learn to gllllllllllide on them like

roll/er skates, and every/one

would see

the path i took,

dark dott/ed line

like a live

trea/sure map.

stand/ing still, black ink would pooooooool

un/der me,

shin/y like a dark mir/ror.

at work, i’d

re/turn the caps to

my feet and

walk a/top them as stilts, and the boss

would/n’t know if i slipped out

because i would/n’t leave a trail. when

the ink runsssssssssss dry it will be re/filled with

po/tent red and

it will look like blood

and smell of beets.

i will feel hu/man.

i will use my blades for o/ther things.

Izzy Dimiceli was born and lives in Elgin, Illinois. She currently attends Columbia College Chicago and studies creative writing with a concentration in poetry and dance. Her entire life has revolved around art. She won first place in the Palmer Arts Contest for her poem "Off-Roading" in 2018. After serving as a student editor for two issues of her community college literary magazine, she went on to become a student editor for Columbia's journal, Allium. Izzy likes to use her interests in visual arts, creative writing, and dance to destress, express herself, and create work that feels unique and new.