my skin does not want to be skin and i know
i have said this before but my fingers
do not want to be fingers and my eyes are
itching and itching and saying, stars
stars & stars & stars
my knuckles say to me, you are always
disappointed.
my knuckles are itching and itching and
saying, let us go, it won’t hurt
that much. we would string stars through
our joints if you would let us.
my wrists say, hook and curl and wind and
twist. stick your thumbs into your pockets
and dig up the moon.
my shoulders are battered sailing boats.
they hum low bass notes and coil their ropes:
we are young and hungry, they tell me.
we are broad and strong and bloodthirsty.
my mouth —
no.
my heart does not want to be a heart and i know
i have said this before but i am really just
waiting for someone else to come
and clear out my garden here
my hands do not want to be hands anymore
my lungs do not want to be lungs anymore
my eyes say, stars & stars & stars
by tori aitken