the day goes by piecemeal
shroud-light in the afternoon
twisted wire face in the mirror
your name carved on my collarbone
I am a woman now
ragged cuticle, flaking lip
skin a dry cracked dirt road
my hair a noose around my neck &
skin like muslin soaked in blood
I am what you made me:
a live woman, with glass eyes
stuffed inside a wolfskin