Finch

by Jennie Byrne

i

am

in

pieces

a tornado, blown open, a belt wrapped

like a noose, tight around old scars

we marry our wounds so they never leave

but it knits together, red fibers birth a buried

bullet, once fired by teeth, now dressed in me

sleep is my escape, and i wake in a nightmare

swallowed a pothole, a touch feels coarse

except for her, she was my violet, my incubator

we do not remember days, we remember moments

you say this in a language i’ll never know

sink into the blue hole, charged with grandeur

multiply like flies, insoluble once more

i could hear my pulse breakthrough water

heartbeat strangled by tides, i am a doll

unstitched, i am milk

uncurdled

but 

i was here


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