2/24/2015

when it hurts, hurts like 
the sound of a lost dog
in the valley of lost dogs
like the face of a doll in the 
valley of broken dolls, begin 
where shoulders meet ribs
reach back butterfly your width
expose the dark side
of your heart to the warm
footsteps of starlight
and then let fall the rest disassemble
all the moving pieces of your
awkwardness bare the square 
inch of self-hatred creched in your chin
the chip caught between collar 
and diaphragm the delicate 
screws of shame holding fast
the inner thigh let it all 
go fall screwlessly apart
& with the essential
of you unhinged at last 
will you realize the architect you 
imagined as yourself captain 
of this ship now as 
truly no more than the sound 
of the winds dancing?