Day 7 of 30


there were moments my mother
would tell me secrets
over dinner
show me where the scars were
where oily skin folded itself
into pain crevices like receipts
of undesirable produce
voice trembling and tumbling
into me like marrow loose
from jagged bone
secrets that cut and stuck
and stayed and fattened like
foot-in foot-out lovers that
slump sofas and kissy-kissy
whenever threatened with
get the hell out
secrets that knew how
to use fork and knife
better than she did


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