do you remember walking on the beach together
last december?
the wind was a thin wail, numbing us,
carding cold fingers through our hair
until you were blue with it.
the tide sliding out until
wreckage and bits of driftwood rose out of the water
like bones shyly showing through skin.

please eat, i wanted to tell you,
please, just eat.
but you could no more just eat
than i could swallow the entire sea.



There are a lot of ways I can play this,
a lot of patterns to paint these walls with,
a lot of paper to cover the cracks.
I can build myself a skin out of the scraps I find
in action films and shitty novels,
splicing this guy’s wit with that guy’s cynicism
with that other guy’s pulsing resentment,
weaving trope into trope,
grafting them onto my bones. Continue reading “Skin”