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skin red like fruit
by Fox Robinson


Fingers entwined,
Tightly clasped – digging.
Rock picked raw
What are you getting out of it?

Tearing at my skin
In the shower
Skin red like fruit
Not quite high enough.

Carve your name
In bark
Empty your pockets
Into my mouth
Tell me your stories
And expect me to swallow.

Shedding layers
Burning and used.
Plug my ears
So I don’t hear the sounds.

   Branded body – scorched soil
   Flower buds are closing.
   Go back under
   It’s not safe up here.
   Utterances grinding
   Mother is dying.


Why does this feel familiar?


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