cherish what you have
you could wake up one morning
and find shattered shadow pieces,
the dynamic destroyed, words wrung
from your darkness until all is irreparable
and there is no forgiveness, pulling up
from the well a bucket of ash,
some bits of fabric gone so threadbare
that there is no mending.
some people will never forgive you–
and for that, you’ll never forgive yourself.



it’s good when the bones show,
her fingers say to me as they dig into my clavicle

she vivisects me
and holds me up to the light
scraping my ribs bare

i will (shop)lift the dirt from your body,
she promises.

and my bones will bleach to the purest white,
a shade still too dark for her,

not by the sun,
but by her pelvic bone that curves like a knife,
her words that cut to the marrow.