It is early but I am drawing the blinds.
The clock is turned to the wall, my ears
Taste fiddle that burns sweet like whiskey.
I am calling out the wrong name and
Painting my belly with old blood
From what’s hers all hers
But I call out the wrong name.
I feel my ribs rise and see
My hips crack and
And hear my flesh ache
And I can’t stop.
I smell iron, food
That was good once.
I was good once.