Skin like milk.

 My body is a ligament.

protruding from the joy my mother has become.

All my sons are forming from my rib cage.

All my loss, forming a leakage—

A sacrilege of purity and sacrifices.

Tell me about bone marrow because

 I do not fear damnation &  because I’m like a

candlestand, pure with purpose, erect with light.

I’m derobing my spots to cleanse my skin, call it

Branding, call it the making of a beautiful inferno.

I’m a special breed of all the beautiful things I know.

begrudging the tenderness of flowers.

I’m skin like milk skin like butter icing:

vogue. starch and a covering of flesh.