selfie #7: mistaken identity

not in the end who we say we are:        not the wounded

the world-weary      the heart        on the sleeve       what rises in us

armored and fierce       what shudders       what

terrible tremble of memory       of suture torn and ragged      

how unfastened we are       how unfastened we become when        

touch can spread us open       here is where       you show me      

the lines you carved on your own face     and how you gasping

turn me over like a pearl plucked       from the cold green sea       

this is not        what I intended to say       this is not what I wanted

us to be        in the end aren’t we all of it        all of it

and nothing        a clean white cloth twisting         in the wind