Parlor

She.
arms pierced with tiny needles,
millions of
holes he made under the surface:
her inkblot skin.
now she looks like a used canvas, from
the elementary self-portrait to not-so-still
life works she
recently purchased and will never return.
just scenery, she thinks: I am
a landscape for devouring;
Stained is my name and red is
my favorite number.
Indian pigments match
the dragon on her arm, I noticed. and
the mercury that burned
through the floor was so silver,
when I see the marks where it had
been I can’t help but think
of her toe piercing
and my grandmother’s hair.