Skylar Miklus
ON SILENCE AND STAIN
the stain of coffee grounds
on granite countertops— flooded,
disintegrated, used, discarded—
matches my freezing hair when your
devil’s fingers groped for purchase
in my overgrown jungle of a body.
i tried, with elbow grease and lye,
to erase it from the stone. but it’s
sunk in now, bone-deep.