I had you.
Six spikes
under my
skin. Tiny needles, headless
deeply
rooted in my foot— a huge prune.
A boy made
cuts in my sole (and not just all)
with a
flamed blade until it swelled.
His lashes
touched my nose as we took
your black
spears out. You had no mouth
but you
bit me as I longed for his.
