I threatened to frame myself in a young boys mind,
wrapped so carelessly in cottons, using only
my salty eyes and sand-tangled hair.
I could hear the flutter and click of his memory
as my laughter broke its
wave on the shore.
Chopstick-thin wrists were worn naked and my
collarbone jutted into honesty that night
when I spoke the most natural lie.
I have no proof the world goes on
past the horizon, and I have never seen
the other side of the world.
I had no right to say.
