Body

The land between the coils and the head

unexplained thickness made by the folds

of troubled steady hands

and cave eats itself into cave

to leave a cavern from one end

of the planet to the other

for heavy air to pour through

with the supreme urgency

of eternity; tornado emptiness

in place of a core, all wrapped up

in the hot clock hands and hair bows

found and tied together

like a gift from a crazy man

that might malfunction, throwing

one sharp shark's tooth

into your sister's eye, enough

to turn the mood of Tuesday

and make anniversaries itchy

but you'll still keep it,

like a token to call it true,

keep it in your pocket

and never tell a soul

you'll love its dusty ridges,

dangerous difference, the 

spot of blood your sister

left to leave her mark

and the quiet of its residence

rubbing raw your thigh

that will make you something

to someone, who will

love your scar and

kiss you there, asking

for an answer and

loving how you will

never say what

hurt you, what

you keep that hurts you

as if he could kiss 

your scar and with that

bold secrecy, have what 

it is that hurts you,

and with that weight

of words, heal what

it is that hurts you