That night, I kissed your shoulder,
your neck, the back of your wrist,
kissing scars and asking you
to tell me their origins:
the brick wall that shook
your brain in its cage of bone,
windshield glass, rearview mirror,
the knife you plied yourself.
You sat across my legs,
took my hand in your fingers
and navigated your scalp
so I could feel the dimple
under the hair
that grew back silver,
where the staples held
you together.
Your catalog of injuries
is just the smallest part of you,
but I couldn’t write a poem
long enough to catalog
every part of you
that my body, my mouth
longs for.
This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.
