My reflection swallows round my eyes like twisted hair beads and pink oil

while the mirror leaks a frightening truth

that I go mad to.

I hold the wishing in my fingers

drenched in castor, tea tree, and peppermint

my scalp only blooms red

What is a body but a cardboard box

smoothed over with wrapping paper?

A shiny exterior that beckons eager eyes,

and a sheen spiral of store-bought ribbon.

she rocks on a satin sea

her crossbow jawline aimed upward

trained on the sun.

she shoots, trying to make

the sun sink to her,

make it fall

in love with her.

there’s a galaxy, all ink and stars, that spins below your collarbone, 

and i can’t help but wonder who drew it:

did they see you as i see you? did they mean it to remind me

of the truth that other hands have gone where mine just dream they’ve been?