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I have never been comfortable in my body (that said, here are my Culebra selfies: glasses, nipple rings and all)
I woke early for this last island dawn.
There is no horizon, just the low hills,
boats in the harbor. Dark shapes and clouds drawn
in pearl to give the world shape. My nostrils
flare at the smell of rain. But rain back home
won’t smell like this. Roosters begin to crow
and everything stirs. The pearl monochrome
dark fades into pinks and blues. I don’t know
how I will survive back home. I am cruel
to this flesh, this soul. I finish the last
of the hash brownies and cheap gin. The cost
to keep me going leaves me all bestial.
The sun is above the clouds, rising fast.
I go back today to being just lost.
Endless reasons to cut myself. I had
and hoped that you wouldn’t be a new one
the way others have been. Say that I’m mad
or sad or kooky. Say that the ocean
has claimed me. Salt in my scabs; they won’t heal.
Swimming through fire coral I add two more.
In the waves a third. All this will congeal,
canker up, before you see me. I swore
that I wouldn’t show you this side: a god
jealous, demanding blood. With each petty
act the razor bites deep. Say that I’m crazed;
flawed in the same way that all gods are flawed.
The blood is mine. Each small stroke cuts deftly,
leaving me between detached and unfazed.