Total Recall

I do not remember

I do not remember

I do not remember those cold burning embers

but there are red scars on my pink lips, purple bruises

on my broad hips that I would swear were untarnished not one week

ago, and so

I cannot help but ask:

do you remember

do you remember

do you remember our last November, gone swirling by

one year ago?

For you see,

I am afraid

I have lost it all to

cold calendarial haze, and I can no longer keep count

of the pouring inky days, which drip by indifferent, celestial.

My mirror is begrimed, all dust and scarlett, from the old May days, before the June night

when I fell to my ripped knees, surrendered to harlot

it was supposed to

supposed to

supposed to be vernally sharp, thick with mint sprigs and heavy

with parsley, but instead it is dulcet-sour:

and my tongue is made of apples, incorrectly autumnal.

I curl up in the sun, let my skin fry away. It takes 6 weeks for a epidermal cell to die, I tell myself over and over again, and so soon I will do,

soon I will do,

soon I will do as the serpents do, shed this crackling husk and emerge anew. Soon

the scars will fade from my pink lips, soon the bruises will fall from my broad hips. Soon I will have a new skin, one with no trace of you

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bluestockings magazine
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