← Issue 9

fabric and bones

by Han Mallek

my teeth are made of plastic.
skin rippled in polyester, I am
synthetic, augmented, segmented into
compressed elbows and wrist braces,
the uncovered / the covered,
I am the whole; I am the parts of. 

a fiber unraveled from my kneecaps, 
chopping off hair in my headphones,
I have three legs: (1) flesh (2) blood (3) cane.
I am everything on and in me
acetaminophen, caffeine, chamomile, fluoxetine

I am whole; I am the parts of.
I am the unknown, undiagnosable, unlikely
to be this or that or the other, I am the
“probably nothing” or could be anything


Han Mallek (they/them) is an undergrad student located in Minneapolis. There, they study English, linguistics, and creative writing while working in the depths of an archives library’s caverns. They own at least five clown dolls.