the moon is curdled,
no longer swaying in tune
to the melody of the ocean.
I lie here, hiding behind
folded skin and protruding thighs,
praying for disjunction.
there is such bliss here
in the gaps where the sky
split open and sucked me inside
(they called it a mercy killing-)
wrapped the excuse up
and tied it with severed nerves,
tucking it beneath my chin
with an exhausted pat on the head.
my eyes were caving in,
sewing piano wire around
weather-beaten irises-
like butterfly stitches
that pull the craters together
and match up the shredded synapses.
they filled the hole with concealer,
marked the sunken in areas
with lavender & wiped the sweat
from my chest - - -
"you're a woman now."
Silver trophy winner
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