I keep you in my palm.

I keep you in my fist;
squeeze you in my
palm and write my
name with fingerprints.

dotted drips like lines on highways,
designs with influence:
personal meaning
but lazy.
afterthoughts marked with

drops of you

you say:

     afterthought?

you built a town and

stuffed me in it.

my coltish way I fidget next

to you on the bench.

lick my dry lips

without looking up and

pull the hem slowly

with my stubbed, teal nails

to point to the tattoo of

the north star on my leg;

it’s black, sharp and fresh.

and

boy

you

better

run.

“The gauntlet”