Character

the world cracked open

in this eternal February of my grief,

scavenging Tuesdays, hoarding them

like acorns, dragging Sundays behind a flatbed truck through the rocky red clay,

ferrous and feral, crowbar to kneecaps,

machete to self-image,

scimitar through heart,

I drag myself through muck,

nasty rumors tangling my hair,

a memory of love stinging the back of my throat,

nauseating me with conditions

I’ll never satisfy, sacrifice becomes spinach clinging to my teeth,

dental floss dangling out of reach

profane joy stomping indulgent malice into my spine.

Careful: this character assassinates back.