Poetry from Oona Haskovec

Bones Are Full

There are so many parts of myself that I wish I could change, 

The curve in my waist just above my hips,

The way my voice defaults to ultra-high when i order my coffee,

The presence of my chest.

These are the reasons I am not seen as myself.

And yet myself as a whole pushes for beauty. 

I long to see the right kind of beauty in my 




I would sell my soul and a half for the chance to fit my brain

But i still

Love my collarbones, 

My knees, 

My hands,

My nose, 

But the love that fills my bones remains forever conditional.