like the
Rialto, the Grand Canal flows underneath me.
Even as I hold my back
in my hands, I can no longer support my discretions.
Sixteen.
Twenty-one.
Thirty-three.
How
did I have the space?
You would think it would be engraved across my pelvis:
“wrap it up”
before you
hold me down
I ran with lit matches as a girl,
waiting until the flame kissed my thumb and forefingers
puckered pink under the surface.
I enjoy the boils left
behind by my recklessness:
every bruise from a fence **** and
every pebble-sized bump from my head
hitting the roof of a Camaro
sat underneath my skin,
just like Lil’ A
B
C
and I can lie flat
as the canal rushes over.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
like the
Rialto, the Grand Canal flows underneath me.
Even as I hold my back
in my hands, I can no longer support my discretions.
Sixteen.
Twenty-one.
Thirty-three.
How
did I have the space?
You would think it would be engraved across my pelvis:
“wrap it up”
before you
hold me down
I ran with lit matches as a girl,
waiting until the flame kissed my thumb and forefingers
puckered pink under the surface.
I enjoy the boils left
behind by my recklessness:
every bruise from a fence **** and
every pebble-sized bump from my head
hitting the roof of a Camaro
sat underneath my skin,
just like Lil’ A
B
C
and I can lie flat
as the canal rushes over.
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