Tin Man

Carly Xagas


Peel my layers back


One by one,
each newer & more pink than the last
(like the soft bubbly flesh of virgin lungs)
(like tongue and gums & freezing palms)
the tin with its metallic twinge, the smog that's settled:
I'm all fresh underneath. New meat.


The sugary coating dissolves,
that acid burns down to my sinew
skin screaming like lobsters boiled


the strongest (weakest) clay,
joints rusty, where's that oil can?


If I only had a heart.

If I only had a heart.



Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790