You meteor through me still,
plastic bag over my head.
I swore I’d love myself or die.
Dog toy, no noise.
Garden under snow.
Someday I’ll love this skin,
the landmarks, surgical scars, push
out, out, damn bruise.
I’m fine. Just leave me
a blowtorch,
a marshmallow crown.
When I wore your clothes, I looked
always down. Sometimes now I see
snow as it falls, sometimes clouds.