Shivers (Revisited)
No more wires or gloved hands—she snapped
off the fragmented shadows the stage curtains
cast. striking a match against the script mapped
over her tongue: spark tangerine and rose rains.

she pledged herself to sunburn, let it peel away
her pallor and scrubbed all her freckles off with
sand (speckled with shells dissolved in the fray
and crunch of hurricane: passed to light, myth!)

no more wires or gloved hands—she snapped
off the fragmented shadows the stage curtains
concealed in the belly of the storm. the wane
of one moon turned a smile over for her.

she's scrawling fresh, wet words over her lips
still warm with ink. the briars and roses print
like the murmur of daydreams in her fingertips:
re-raveling the threads of dreams with dents.

no more wires or gloved hands—she snapped
off the fragmented shadows the stage curtains
swept over her face; now the sun's hitting
her full-force, searing the milky way lights in.

over the catwalk (she's not beyond a shade
of doubt) will the candle's little light fade
out? grey on black spin like a deck of cards:
jokers in dark face paint: masquerade, marred?

no more wires or gloved hands—she snapped
off the fragmented shadows the stage curtains
cast. striking a match against the script mapped
over her tongue: spark tangerine and rose rains.

so she unstitched her scars for him.