by Amy Soricelli
I cannot be painted the smooth black hand of dark across my face.
I am not easily kept wiped clean off the shimmery top of all you know -
slam down hard/ two fist-ed pumps of anger like a fire drill with real fire.
(I am the fire).
So you think you know the step aside thoughts I have/ I rummage through your random memory
like a beggar through the garbage.
Most of it worthless/all of it yours claimed in the frozen night of lonely.
But i am lonliest when I am with you.
You found me broken like a shell in this wide wide ocean space of sand
rocks mostly under our feet.
If I showed you a prize the prize changed.
Don't bring me nails in your mouth to spit flowers -
I see the rough edges shape my heart/you cannot break it any longer.
It does not belong to you.