INTERLOCKING SEAMS

Unzip me down the spine,

step in, it’s just my size,

wear my skin a week or so,

feel time turn counter-clockwise.

You’ll meet the kid who begs,

“If only you ever knew…”

Often laughs—

interrupted, gagging

on a smile she had to chew.

You’ll find the old one tap-dancing,

bloody shoes from followed rules,

staining walls fire and brick,

she winces, yet still she moves.

The current one is scribbling—

not a letter, not a plan,

just curses carved on napkins

in the waiting room of man.

The ghosts show up late,

of course,

whispering “what is wrong with you?”

they clap when I collapse,

of course,

then question why I do.

I hug them till my arms fall off,

I kiss them till I choke—

but they just trade their sideways looks,

and vanish in the smoke.

So try me on, go ahead,

take me for a spin.

Be strong, don’t flinch—

not all find the comfort deep within.

You’ll scream inside my silence,

you’ll never laugh the same,

when the zipper hits your neck and jams

you’ll know I am not to blame.

But don’t dare beg my name.