Lookie Loos
Hold both hands in the hole of my sweater.
It’s just life.
Choking on my mother’s intimidating words,
if I close my eyes maybe they won’t notice me.

I looked great in the photos.  
High diving into broken glass,
This is going to sting,
giving the lookie loos something to chat about.

Wild birds need air.
Roll out the papers
No stems, no seeds.
Just a pencil thin line that separate tragedy from clarity.