Don’t Repeat this Shirt
Dear, don’t repeat your
shirt, she cries,
and that nose is getting
longer when you lie
creaming each night, put between your toes
because that is where a bad
fungus grows,
use Milcu, see a doctor of
your feet,
please, use balm, for the old wounds are there.
Show me. This hard skin is
coming white
where you put on your desk
and write
I must soften, rubbing lotion but you are far,
I cannot hug you, and the days are long,
they do not go quick or move along.
She insists it is cotton,
to rub your face,
sees deep lines on your skin to be erased,
it is not toilet paper.
Words to make her smile,
these small shared ways of building worlds
in thought bubbles made into fortress walls
however simple, however
small,
pouring thinning agents on
thicker skin.
Your brows getting very big,
I will trim,
dear, I will massage your
aching limbs
when you come, I dress in only simple cloth,
for you will be the one to
take that one off.
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