The tear wound bleeds inked paper,
book spines, rusty sandal clasp,
computer cord veins, black. Ribbons of
blue frayed flesh unravel lissome. The
mouth heaves a soft bible with
matted leaves like a sigh, teeth
tearing apart, a toothbrush
tweezing the jagged gap.
Pens poke like spines from its
netted sides, tangled in old receipts.
A half-full CamelBak wedges between it
and an unfamiliar backseat. Two slender
legs, long, crossed, curl over it, serape-coated,
socks swishing the window at cars that pass
on the road.
tiny square bedroom,
women’s voices twitter
outside the closed door.
to the floor.
One arm hugs legs, the other caresses wall:
Stroke the little white nodes these hand can’t see;
Eyes adjust, I call myself crazy, pat wall softly;
Smack harder, the wall will be closer to nerves—
Numbness, only, tingles up my arm.
into pale sheets.
The pattering feet of happiness, I hear,
come down the hall. A feminine voice coos lightly through the door—
Are you there?
I don’t know anymore.