lips, cheeks, noses, fingertips
stained, dripping, sweetened, sunned
gulping the sleep of burnt organs
i know it’s coming like the smell of rain
stained, dripping, sour, raw
it isn’t clean it isn’t clean it isn’t clean
twisted left, climbing punishment
i need my skin to steam
carving myself into three, so pretty
craved lines turned to ravaged order
again and again and again and again
i am the hand that feeds me
only gnawing to leadened pulsing bones will
keep my mother sAfe
only skinning my begging, knotted body will
soothe the feuds smothered into my spine
either ink, wind, lace,
spilling from seams and leather
or epiphragm and rosaries pouring from my carcass
the scales laid out before me only
balance through prescribed gluttony
i’d rather save my bag than my
taxidermied living.