my happiness is rice in sugar. it keeps time from clumping together. it keeps my mind as fluid as the silver mercury on my tongue.
You told me once to zip it or you would Rip my head off. I don't talk back much anymore.
I say protect me, keep me from jumping, as if the distance between desolation and liberation can be measured in millimeters instead of miles.
You ask if my sweater is on and I say no today’s the day I broil in the sun dusty and tight, my scars purpling I look like a radish when the rest of me reddens I’m shriveling near-naked on the beach sandstuckto my soft spots should I peel them with a paring knife? If …
You are driving down the big road, and there’s a car crash, and it’s your car, or the car you are in. It has crashed, and you are in it.