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

 

Sinew:
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