A poet's missing thoughts

Perhaps your sacrum curve
does you some good cradled in my palms

Your false ribs
barely under a sheet of skin

Your stretch marks may be there,
translucent with shine,
but your body is a hollow,
violated temple.

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We stuck ABC gum on trees,
wore meaningless colorful wristbands,
ate leaves that made our tongues swell.

We mixed up eyebrows with eyelashes,
painted cherry juice on our lips
and picked at blisters and slivers with razorblades.

We chopped off our hair,
bruised boys that tore out our hearts
and chewed up people that chewed us.

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explain to me why
that rush feels so good
running through my skin

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watch
day break
sun paints dream blue sky
wait

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Biblical eves
entwining fingers
creating beautiful taboos

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You never forgot to save
and use every lovely scrip-scrap
of paper to paste masterpieces,
pieces together