k.k.

in my skin on my skin marks invasion
when you ask me in strange regarded
terms like what it’s like to have a multi-
colored albatross sprawled on my chest
so i tell you this is what it’s like to be an
invader in your own body, this is what
it’s like when metal is the only if-you-could
just-crawl-into-me thing that makes me feel
whole. needles drive nakedness into the
nail. we skip memories like stones with
rippled laughter. we were asleep in class.
at five below everything was below five.
deals are deals but we can play tetris on
our phones for free. on the walk by the parking
meters (in six months i’ll see you again) decorated
with mistletoes. in math we failed to communicate.
minusing numbers count down marriage. you can’t
apologize for that. we’ll get coffee when you come
home but don’t look at me. i want to be inside your
skin. we twist glances like sharpened knives away
from reflective surfaces until we become dull and
watch short cycling documentaries in less-than-
cyclical motions. in rain i paid for your check,
bore my snakelike tongue. when we get coffee
you must make a decision. the psychic said
“you will find happiness”. just wait. you
will have two kids. slither into me.
whether we stay or go, my brain
is human, my body cold steel
slung on your shoulders
alongside film-cliche
birds. whether we
stay or go, forget
about me. until
you are steel,
forget about
me.

 

(originally published in a slightly-altered form in White Stag, Vol. 1, Issue #2)

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