the fable is etched into the surface of your skin as ornate calligraphy on a first place trophy
or maybe with the upright formality of letters saved for a gravestone.

it is a hand-me-down sea that could sink a thousand rickety ships.

it is a sky reflected off another sky at the horizon line of fire.

it is a dog carcass at the edge of a ditch festering in the bustle of maggot-activity.


the cuts of your body have become scars that are words in the braile of our language,
i touch your flesh to read the saddest story i've ever known...
your illness began the day i was born.