i.
and the way you tore my
shoelace limbs in threes and fours
made me inhale.sigh.
a runny mix of earth and the breath
from your fingertips made
me gentle again (foryouonly).
there was a frantic dash to hide the
potter's wheel when the sirin came over.
she rapped your knuckles
for not molding me perfectly,
and i told her yesterday was better raw.



ii.
i swear i told you to check the back-door,
to make sure the leaves
weren't slipping between cracks in the concrete.
gnawing the skin from my already
chapped lips wasn't good you said,
but it's all for you.
i tore your yellowing posters from the wall
and replaced them with apocryphal
lies of faithfulness
to atone for cleaving your fingernails down the center.




iii.
you soaked my hands in spiteful words
and left them to prune.
and the piano keys were never
the same without your sighing fingertips,
so it stands,
slowly turning gray
as the beds of my nails
expire.