Ecdysis

Honeysuckle and waning moon. Outside
the door, freedom leaves
boots of alligator
teeth. They only fit you

when you take off
your skin
shaped name. Slice along seams
and peel back your tattoos,
those catalogues of cravings.

Permanence
is the chorus you memorized
and forgot
someone wrote. Before it
was,
it wasn’t.

You don’t go. You stay.
The going one is a stranger
with motives
unclear,
blood type
unknown.

 

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