Hands are so dry from latex gloves
maps for flesh bound cities that
don’t exist unless the work does,
lines around a lizard eye,
fantastic light bearing down on them,
making shadows hide their shame.
My limbs are crooked and uneven
like my foot size;
just enough to slightly annoy,
but lost on the casual observer,
these hold up the racked skeleton,
keep the unkempt uniform cloaked,
this body, from spilling from it’s cage.
And yet I’ve never quite
been before so entranced,
even in love as I am now
with it all, as I am now,
as I am now with it all.