Untitled

By Nehalem Chudnoff


Her li
er lip
r li s
He ips
Her lips

As they kiss me on the brain
Opening me up by the lines on my scalp
And sewing me up with rusty staples
Like the ones in my brothers head from a summer with my father

His tears like eye drops in a bottle
As he squats on the balls of his feet
Pleading to me, my eyes wide and wet
To tell me the names of his other children

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s