Ruptured joints

deep in black ink.

flimsy fingers

marvel the meaning

congested with words

that run off the

cherry tongue.

the mouth of a

girl is a briefcase of

secret documents

known only by the

doctor's eye.

the protocol of

assessment and emergency

response always is

eleven hour wait,

rotting of cathedral walls

it is the sound of small

bodies shutting down

beside me in red leather chairs.

shreds of soft, stiffened skin in

spring.

I close my eyes and allow them

to be sewn shut.

new and old, the sounds i have

never known seem familiar like

the hazy vision of my body

hanging from a noose.