my body is painted with
scars and although you've
peeled back my distant layers
the closest i felt to me has left
me empty.
black slants are parading
down my alternative skins
and stars are hung above
her prenatal smile.
this will be my last poem
so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...
