how 13 is the perfect age for sin

i dream balloon size bosoms to wash away

cuts along the upper thighs

the girls say words like stretch marks and nipple hair

survey the body with tweezers

mine as naked as an apple skin, those damn

peaches command roundness, really flaunt their fuzz

she says the predicate finishes a thought

but i think it’s the period

it’s a man styled shoe that drags alongside me

attached to a leg that used to be mine

and someone’s stubble runs along my hands

it never occurred to me the way it all scratches

that cut you see, i say

is the mere manifestation of an unripe girl

unwilling to crack open her egg and let some boy

lick the yolk, the gem of a hymen’s eye

i dream all kinds of long golden hair before mine

turns a curl like a lip of a squirrel

when other girls describe the blood designs that

stain a soft pink panty

i hug the edge of a tub, studied how floating hair

looks like suspended periods or at the very

least, like a liquid from a part of me

i’ve chosen not to share with the world

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