From the Fishouse

Pimp-Daddy, Blow Me, and D-Z 4-ever
are the only legible phrases. Other

cut-marks on the squat trunk are hieroglyphs:
dark bands of hearts, snowflakes, arrowtips.

To be pocked like this. To stand in a corner
with shallow roots, one deep tap; to take

the terror-etchings, the fleeting love-wounds
onto skin and hold them out for someone

to see the blurred, healing edges and faint
unknowable letters. Despite the knife,

despite withering, to push an annual
dying farther, faster, and let anyone

trace a finger over marks we make.