#46

If my knuckles
were still in their original
alignment, a row slowly
cresting in the middle
of my hands,
their constellation
determined
by the first breath
as opposed to many
big bangs,
then their movement
could be predicted.
I hold no idea of the destiny
of the backs of my hands.

#47

Gloves are useless.
I would look ridiculous
with them on now.
I don’t wear a condom
to hide the experiences
of my penis. I should
have done that more
before my twenties.
I should have raised
my penis with more care.
Those scars are always
remembered too well
to tell the stories
of the healing that followed.

#48

I took one hair from a tulip
& left it on the top of my head
where my own hairs first
scattered. I looked like a fool.
I am not a flower or a flowering.
I am covered in the atmosphere
of my own time being tender
enough to watch myself age.