Knowing full well my own story
before I knew a thing
he laid in me a want
that sunk my arm
like a smallpox vaccine scar.
It bloomed.
There's a universe of ache
and desire in me
that I cannot itch out.
Later he dropped me.
Hung glass
under my feet.
Now, I'm terribly careful as a glassblower,
afraid of breaking
any piece of anything
and releasing the torrential heat inside it.
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