(I) seaweed skin
today there is a
crevice where my
lungs used to be

(II) brass arteries
i took the long
way to work this
morning trying
to sidetrack my
mind with new
roads but there
are some bits of
you creeping up
my spine and
burrowing into
my hair and
nuzzling my ear
i had thought that
by now i would be
able to take breaths
without chunks of
sentences meant for
you breaking off
from my bronchial
tubes but they are
somehow still lodged
in there like they
have been called home

(III) umbrella heart
i used to wish no one
would ever touch me
ever touch me ever
touch me because their
fingerprints would last
too long and i can't scrub
them off like i want to
please let this be different
please let this be the end
of you aching at the base
of my skull and robbing
me of my purple dreams
and green hopes i want
to feel myself in my arms
instead of you