By M.E.G.
I pick everyone else's pieces up
in the form of shoes and tears
eyelashes and broken hearts
put them away safely
stuck back together with gold
I promised my therapist I would use
to fill the dints between my spine
that the bathtub digs into,
a reminder that my mind
still searches for courage to call
the body home again.
I hope someone will pick up
my pieces for a change.
They burn into
the ripe flesh
of my palms.