They lie on their backs with lolling tongues and dyed red bodies
If I could carve myself anew and glue marble I would
Remember when they said her ribs stuck out of her body
When they mumbled, "too prehistoric?"
The toothpicks fragile; you could stick a finger in and pick one out
I nodded, a lolling tongued toothpick girl too,
"Too prehistoric"

I am too driftwood
Brittle but trying
Small
I am trying to carve myself better

I turn my body over and run to glue

The marble escapes my fingers

I was born driftwood

Too prehistoric, toothpick

I may dye myself red