M.E. Gallucci

FIVE ROUTES OF EXPLICATION
 

 

I
in the parking lot, you paused.
a scream from the passenger’s seat.
the burning of shoulder blade with fingertips from the
base of neck down and back again, skin catching,
your thick thumb heavy.

you burn and bury others in the way one can only
screech silently for. you swore the act was out
of love, the love you had for me. I swore
it had ended, you spent subsequent weeks
attempting to clear my memory but

my cells would not allow it.

I felt it in my skin for years
the epidermis incapable of sloughing off
or regenerating
the tissue toughened like dried fruit
in a dusty shade of apricot
tight and taught and dry

 

II
no one can see you crying like this they’ll think I did something wrong

 

III
STITCH UP. SEW. LICK THE THREAD STRANGLE THROUGH EYE OF THE NEEDLE AND CROSS-HATCH NEEDLE THREAD SUPERIUS ORIS NEEDLE THREAD INFERIUS ORIS NEEDLE THREAD SUPERIUS ORIS NEEDLE THREAD INFERIUS ORIS NEEDLE THREAD

 

IV
proverb: should anyone notice, it is the fault of appearance, not causation.
proverb: the sin of surviving is further singeing.

 

V
once, you let me stay away, insisted you’d be there when I woke
but there’s nothing here for you anymore.

today I witnessed the scar swallowed up.
you’ve left nothing here.



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