the edges of your skin
snap at your acerbic joints
as your bones break the flesh
and you take a few steps back
to collect yourself;
picture days with your family
in green and laughter and now,
the interminable quiet
that spans highways,
urns like
ashtrays,
everyone’s in.

you see my lips in the
rearview:
red as fresh hell,
soft like fresh pain,
your new lover is plain
and you are scared of
the ice in my veins,
the way I change shape
from arctic to comet
and rock splits your
face and the bone breaks
the flesh and you
are taking a few steps back
and

I am scared that
you once said
my name.

“Circe”