Emily Murman


You ask if my sweater is on and I say
no     today’s the day I broil
in the sun
dusty and tight, my scars purpling
I look like a radish when the
                       rest of me reddens I’m shriveling
near-naked on
the beach 

sandstuckto my soft spots should I peel
them with a paring knife?  If you are going
to stare I might as well blacken and bleed

I’m going to swish
sand and beach glass in my mouth
     up gravelled
spit                 blood on the boardwalk

sogging my bikini to stop you from saying
I’m beautiful because
I know you want to stab me
why don't you come cut off a slice?

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