The skin cracks of reptile, scales reflect the glaze of a pure white sky between teardrop lips,
green gentle to no breeze behind glass windows

I am safely curled around my own heart

The cement floor was not kind to my curves last night.
Layers of blankets added color to the darkness for no one to see,
the cold leaked through to the spine, pelvic cradle, hip sockets,
nutshell rib cage barren save for feathers.
Wind blew the pages when my back was turned and this is a sharp, unexplored chapter.
Fate would have it that the ink is indelible to tears for in one arc of sunstroke I have wet my eyepants.

There is no one here to change me

The rash is a scourge of whip lashes, emotional sparks in the nightgown
I never asked for the flameproof fabric--
the uninvited electrocution came as a sick surprise party
when the lights went out and fuzzy pink became my crypt.

And now I am a birdhouse,
scattered with seed and splattered with droppings,
weathering sun and rain guarding from twitching cats

I am a box with a hole in it
warm on the inside
paint peeling on the outside
scratchmarks at my door
fluttering in the dark within.

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