three

Lace up my ribs
with needlepoint
and nurse these scars to
bleed.
the sound of blood
is tight.

I write these letters
to cry my
invisible. I'm not
h e r e
press fingers to my lips
i'll bite.

leave your branches
where you've fallen,
take your golden promise
and your gentle bones.
did you promise?
did you share?


drive these needles
into my delicate flesh
and be gentle with those
mothball hands
and
d
r
i
p