body

sometimes i wonder
what it would be
like

to live in a body
without scars.

i see them all the time
on boards and glowing
screens, on pages
and in songs, those

women

made

of unmarked pages.

when the pen digs in
laying ink down
and buzzing against
the bone

it leaves a word.

but they
the virgin pages

are silent eggs, blank and
white.

i’d
rather
be
criss
crossed

at least, once it heals
up.

they want to touch
we know the sharp edges
if they can’t bleed
can we make them
understand
flesh isn’t the gift
they think it is?

saw myself
in a mirror
horrified
backed away
because
i was

pretty.

ugly nobody can take away
it’s yours, it’s equity
a mortgage paid off.

but beauty means
something to lose
and God i can’t
stand to lose much more.

so take it back
whoever
granted me
that glimpse

i’d rather be

hideous
and
content

than beautiful
and borrowed.

i know you saw
my empty bed
sheets red like fire
covers tossed
two pillows, both smashed.

i know you wondered
if it was shared
or if i sleep rough
the way i did
when you were here.

i know you stood there
and looked.

i caught you at it, and that
was when i decided
you could go, i
moved you down the hall
and out the door, you were
dazed
and i,
triumphant.

did you think
i’d be sleeping
on the floor?

do you wonder
who keeps me
company at night?

go ahead, wonder.

you lost the right to know.

you bit in.
i bruised like
an apple, but
i ripened.

so long since
i felt out
of control.

contain me.

i like
the aggressive
for a reason.
when i’m caged
your arms around
me, sweat sliding
between us,
everything
in me
yearning…
then i can be free.

you left a mark,
more than one.
and today
i can’t stop smiling.