The sheets above me cool my skin
Like dirt on a mad woman’s grave.
I rise into the moonlight white
And watch the mirror stare.
“The pale fish looks back at me
Pale fish that will never swim.
My skin is milk for no man to drink.
My thighs unused, unclenched.
This body is not ready yet.
“But dirt waits for no woman,
And coins will buy no time.
I hear the chatter of the bugs.
It’s they alone will feast.”
I sit alone at my window sill,
Trees crackle, sunshine blares,
And children laugh like death.
Their sharp happiness is a knife to me.
One jealous snake on a window sill.
“They will be here, trees and sun
And children with canes and pruney skin.
When I am but a memory,
A laugh in the trees of time.
“I sit alone and try to love them.
I sit alone, a snake.
I sit alone and try to love them.
I sit alone and laugh.”