What is this ring I find in my skin?
The mark of attaching when your head latched on—
Getting lost in the weeds of a romantic impulse
I must have picked you up on the edge of my sole
And I didn’t quite notice where you staked your claim;
And exempted me from social sins.
I stared in the mirror to practice your grin
Emoting “Us” as you use me for food
And bemoan my expressions as unromantic or cruel,
Pointed attention to you is too much
But, I panicked anyway and pulled away fast
Your body may be gone, but your head’s
Still attached, embedded in my calf;
Oh, I want you back to parasitize my safety
Once more, drink the vital stuff of my life away
So I would not be so coldly infected
Pathologically obsessed—
Do I run, once more, through the sun-kissed fen?
For food to some other I shall become
As my joints lock into place
Around the last known curve to their bent.