trembling, she buttoned up each catch to hide the melody burned into her skin

my ramona

set free too long ago
a song sent to be heard only in twilight

your face has new lines — none of which sing
these are straighter, without rhythm
you have been reconstructed into a sketch
a new art claims your body
a new artist claims your body

why do you let your canvas have such a possessive audience?

beauty leaks from your ballads
you are not a pen stroke

my ramona

a.m.