159.

what I need is some of these sticker burrs snapped off my skin
someone to come and pluck me clean, or teach me
how to do it myself

and I'm always running too warm, so
what I need is a freezer pack pillow maybe
to hang ice cubes from my earlobes and wake up blue-lipped tomorrow

what I need is to stop wallpapering my arms, my legs
with a roomful of foreign fingerprints, to stop wearing them like leopard spots
to stop naming myself after the people who have touched me

I spend five nights out of seven in a four-alarm frenzy
so what I need is ceiling sprinklers, sleeping with soaked hair
on a soggy carpet, and some peace for once

to sink to the sea bed, what I need
is the swish of a conch shell against my ear
no more choking on sandstorms and singeing my eyelashes

what I need is the breeze and the hush and palms
face-up, poised to catch the sky if it falls
and some peace for once