I’ve lost the sew of it now
a finger and an eye short of my best

My best,
when my skin leaned in and
point pierced as the
surfacing steel, a tiny porpoise
took air and dived again

hem button pleating cuff collar and fly

there was a satisfactory dance
in the loop and pull through of it
and the spotting of knotting
unravel or be bound
the wearer carried me with them then
into the ripped world

And now?

I’d sit all night, eye thrashed
if I’d let me
stabbing the scars and dreaming
into a bloodied waistband

Leave a Comment





1 + thirteen =

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.