roast — Caressa Layne
poetry ☆
poetry ☆
as it climbs and pricks your cheeks
the undulation beneath the skin rushes to the surface
in the telltale reddening that accompanies
an awareness that recoils within
even while you smile without
the soft underbelly that makes up your grey matter
flinches away from your eyes and your faculties flee
retreating down into the pit of your being
as the blood rushes forward in its place to roast you
and you think for a moment that it will burn you alive
and then you simply cannot think
but the bitterness on your tongue is there only because you believed
that you could swallow it
that you were capable
that it wouldn’t be so bad
it makes no difference that you wanted to taste it
that you expected to savor some sweetness
you recoil against the certainty that they can smell
the aroma of prickling static radiating from your core
and maybe it will wash away as it has done a hundred times before
but maybe it won’t
is there anything more degrading
than the erosion of will you’ve erected stone by stone
the sinews stretch of silent mutiny
is there any knowledge more mortifying
than the certainty that this was what you wanted all along
and now you can understand that sometimes we’d prefer death to being
known
Caressa Layne (She/her) is an interdisciplinary artist, writer, and curator. She celebrates the disturbing alongside the delightful and pursues concepts that bridge the divide between elevated thought and animal impulse. Caressa’s poetry and prose have been published in Art of Nothing Press, The Science Fiction Poetry Association, Plentitudes, and The Dark Poets. She was awarded third place in the 2025 Plentitudes Prizes for Flash Fiction. She serves as Art Gallery Director for Xavier University and Art Editor for Rawhead Journal.
