Boxes By Esther Liv


inside my brain, there is a box. in it are a pink
skipping rope and a pack of pink hello kitty
band-aids and an unused pink lipgloss.
i collected mcdonald’s happy meal toys and
stickers and stamps and candy wrappers.
my parents didn’t love me so i tried to replace
the hollow with crayolas and paper dolls.
turned myself to paper doll, pretty for you.
i was never supposed to outlive childhood.
beside the box is another box, taped shut.
it is pandora’s but my name is pippi. orange
braids and freckles, i still sleep with my feet
on the pillow. that way the monsters can’t
get to me. i was supposed to outgrow the fear.
played hangman in class, then hanggirl in
the backyard, from the large tree. lemonade
and mario kart on the nintendo 64. friendship
bracelets and shiny blue braces and a skirt
made of pink tulle. the box is overflowing.

By Esther Liv


esther liv is a moon lesbian and pretend-poet from denmark, really into dark chocolate & purple tulips. her work has previously been featured in words dance magazine, and elsewhere. she hangs out at


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