expectations and flesh wounds

people look inside me like i am an empty glass
and they expect me to fill up suddenly
i guess, with something that smells like liquor
but tastes like thursday morning and a cup of black tea.

but my bones are stuck in pencil sharpeners
and dystrophy in the form of scoliosis
that can be fixed with a scalpal and a scar
of which i have become quite proud.





i know the smile you hold in your fist was meant for my face
it would be my favourite kind of swelling;
a bruise that would remind me of some coruscation of a flower that does not exist.
i would tattoo it in place  so it would never be forgotten that you were the one to steal my virgin       flesh and place it on the bones of this page.

now im learning how to cope with a bullet in my chest
and your hand gripped around my spinal cord (watch the screws, love)

..someday all my pens will run out of ink
but
     i am not empty.







10/24/10