Sunday, August 15, 2010

Fourteen, belly piercing: you did it to yourself

Unstick your thighs. Plug

the hole with gum.

Remember the pierce, the safety

pin—its black tip burned,

how you pushed in,

hours through skin.

Electric sent down. Past hips,

beneath sheets. Pink.

Walls fading. From the mouth

of the belly. On your back.

The hot-toast-prick. Silver

in your ears. Lighter

beside your thigh.

Once a cord, now a hook.

Your swollen, button-lip.

Your beaded chump.

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