Julia Gerhardt

TIC

 
My skin is too thick
    too thick
for the tic
  dig-
     dig-
        digging
overturning freckles like
stones
rustling through my hair like
weeds
dig-dig-digging…
you will find nothing, boy,
nothing.

The tic will try the other arm,
sure that the vein
  in plain sight
will spill blood like
gold
in California.


The pulsating warmth of my skin
is a creature comfort to a creature like him…
so he
wiggles
        and
writhes  
and forges through
vines—

but my skin is too thick—too much
he will find
nothing twice
with his relentless touch.


 


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