16

i wait,
i sift,
i scream,
i cry.
the earth
belongs
to
the sky.
a secret
winds its way
around my
back
up and over
my shoulder
down my breast,
i wait,
i sift,
i scream,
i cry.
fingers lean and pale
pluck the secret
from my skinsuit,
whisked away
as if it wasn't
supposed to be seen.
i want it back.
not to wrap the secret
around me,
a boa of my
sharply lit sexuality.
i want it back
where it was,
because those were
not my fingers,
not my hands,
that removed it.
they were the
fleshed out emptiness
of falsehood,
of need for approval
and shame.
they were as real as
yours,
when we didn't talk,
but your eyes glanced
quickly
over my flag lapel pin,
to meet their
expectations.
i never asked for this.
i wait.
i sift.
i scream.
i cry.
the earth
belongs to the sky.