Aubergine
By Trudy Shelf

at sixteen 

my chest was   aubergine 

                        deep magenta 

                        indigo  

                        berries crushing 

thin pale skin 

meticulously sliced 

thick bandages containing 

body that did not  

look like mine 

at eighteen 

                        hickeys lay in disarray  

                        across my chest 

my girlfriend says 

they wish they could have seen me 

before 

                        violet kisses 

                                  bites 

                                  cuts at my skin 

though i looked no different at sixteen than i did at eighteen, 

shirtless on a basement couch 

                        it is all the same— 

                                  purple 

                                  dark 

                                  new 

i am bruised aubergine 

i am cut open, seeping            stitches outpouring 

at [                   ] 

          i am queen of cups 

a red river at her feet and a crown on her head  

and no purple to be found