for a moment consider
wiping away hardened edges
smearing the razor blade lines
of your rusted smile
of your painted rib cage

imagine the terror
no—the horrific beauty
of a new self.

who would be your ruler
to measure your growth;
or would you grow at all?
would you fall into the same
ash-colored patterns your mother sewed into your dresses
and polished into your patent leather shoes
only acceptable on Sunday mornings?

how would you redefine your name
that has grown to fill the teeth inside your mouth
and weigh down your jaw bone
with jagged cement?

and honey
even if you could do all of those things
where would you go?
who wants to know the carcass you washed clean,
void of those scars behind your left knee cap
and that freckle on your temple?

what of those sunshine laughs
that colored your bedroom walls
and crocodile tears
that littered the linoleum bathroom floor?

new beginnings are frivolous
because
with the same canvas
the same acrylic paints
the same brush strokes

you’re left with an original copy.