Monday, December 13, 2010


I’m taking everything off
she announces, clawing at her clothes.
A new scar gleams on her mended hip.
Where did this come from, where is it going?

A cross-hatched seam
in the center of a body’s landslide.
A cradle for children, a long-ago man; a broken wing.

She brailles her fingertip down the red
raised tracks. This is not what she expected.
A railroad crossing pocked with stop signs.
A fire escape going down.

Shiva's Arms

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