SKINNY

Skinny wafer

Paper dry

And Sunken.

Shiny, stretched

Animal skin.

Drum like,

Waxy.

Concave shadows,

Bones and angles

My breath whistles

Through

My depleted body;

A tumbleweed

In a ghost town.

What embodies me now

If not flesh or blood?

Everything is retreating,

Shutting down.

My mirror image

Laughs cadaverous,

Unconcerned,

As I hollow out.

Cavernous holes form

On the landscape of my pelvis.

The hills of my breasts retreat

And retreat again,

Much to my delight.

Is there a space for my spirit?

A receptacle for my essence?

Will my personality step out for a minute

To buy some milk and cigarettes

And not return?

Perhaps leaving me

Desert like devoid

Voided and depleted.

My ovaries are tiny nuggets

Fossils showing the life they

Could once supply.

I hold that golden key,

But here on in

I am Mussolini.

Nothing alights my tongue

Unless I give permission

And I don’t give permission.

Is my smile hideous

And crazed?

A laughing skull?

I am at one with this.

Good better best,

Never let it rest,

Until your good is better,

And your better

Is best.