they held the wound with butterfly
closures      four weeks
you had a kaleidoscope flying
up your face the wings
were supposed to hold you
better as you healed than needle
and thread that couldn’t suture you
as smooth but it still left a long shallow
crevice that never filled

                          *

now that the earth is over you            (a safety)

i take the long way home across your face
map the architecture of your blood
and pray against dying early

by the hands of a man who makes a craft of loving
women like dogs      a man who tames
with heavy petting and violence
who mistakes sweetness for something soft to carve