The Surface. Again.
tags: sand published on:
i am a shred.
mosaic, shard porcupine.
my words are chipped
i am an old woman now
practitioner of knotted chords,
shedding hair, blowing wisps,
wishing they snare, on my quills
that will sentence them
to magic carpets.
i double up on myself to shield against
the cottonball rain pelting my skin.
i tie myself into knots curl up swallow tail
wringing my insides out; primordial viscosity.
i turn sides to distribute discomfort
chafing bed sores
i expose new skin.
my shell is scratched.
i must resurface.