I am a body of greed.
I have a mouth that eats pain
Like wild honey in a grove of
Wilder mangoes; my hands seek
To heal others, so I may heal myself.
My heart wears a crown of bones
That cages my lungs, and I love
Only as a drill for a calamity that shakes
The very crux of cruelty.
My soul is scarred
From limb to limb, like constellations
Unnamed and unseen.
Pain is a generous patron
Of the shop I wait in.
My soul and heartache are very, very old friends.
