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.