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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