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