Gabrielle Schenkelberg

Gabrielle is an aspiring poet and a current student at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. She has only just started publishing her poetry, which is deeply personal and pulls a lot from the human experience. She loves the creative expression words allow. 

home alone


last night I shut all of the curtains
took off all of my clothes
and tip-toed through the living room 
and turned the heat all the way up 
to grandma-house temperature
then waltzed into my kitchen 
with a snow-bunny white faux fur throw
wrapped around my shoulders
looking like an ice queen
or maybe more like King Joffrey
gold hair, red-faced, wicked-eyed
puffing for breath as I danced
and I let my shawl slip off my
slinky shoulders and let the white fur
be spoilt by the crumby kitchen floor
but it didn’t matter because
queens have more important things
to concern themselves with

Slight Imposition 


I stand before myself naked in the
Mirror my bare body pale and barely there
My breasts the only part of me subject
to gravity everything else on me -
an enigma - the way it can gracefully
take the abuse I impose
 
I watch the way my skin rolls over
Every rib as I deep breathe through
Memories of a body that still bled
and still stood tall like a proud
monument despite my trying
to slowly starve it to death
You know what they say,
An apple a day keeps the
Psychiatrist away.