My porous neurons slurp up every
noxious drop of nuance.
“Pause-to-check” is carefully printed
inside my eyelids.
I stand all day on the edge of a
decision,
Mouth shut and guts swimming.
One cup of “oops” spilled on me in the
womb,
And it soaked into the threads of my
nerves.
Tendencies now roll like tides.
In a world sodden with sense,
Visceral piques splash against the
folds of my mind—
A pencil pecking against a desk jabs
at my eardrums.
A shotgun cough firing off from across
the room
Crashes down my spinal cord.
Every mistake immerses my anatomy,
Stirring the shameful brine of public
tears.
I’ve always been somewhere between a
shy, little flaw
And a girl without skin.
