Shaina Clingempeel
I know. I know: When it rains it pours ®
I wear a dress that yellows more each year,
With thick curls bound by a colorless bow,
Until he redraws my curls to cover my face,
& I crumble back into the napkin sketch
In his coat pocket, cradling a salt sack
That is still spilling into the navy dark.
With one stray mark, he strips my sky
Of its ink. I find my freckles erased, curls
Pulled straight, slim legs that stand
For eternities, as rain pools around my open/
Closed/open/closed/open mouth.