Tonight's Poet Corner: Dead Tissue
Dead Tissue
by Belinda Roddie
I tattooed the directions back home
on my chest, and it bled like crazy.
Crossroads became cobwebs, and freeways
spiraled into fleshy, scarred oblivion. I
found another needle to pinpoint where
my house had once been. Before they tore
it down, it was painted blue and green,
blending with the grass and sky
appropriately, staining my feet with
natural paint that made my mutilation,
scratched out in desperation to retain lost
memories, pale into pathetic pink.
by Belinda Roddie
I tattooed the directions back home
on my chest, and it bled like crazy.
Crossroads became cobwebs, and freeways
spiraled into fleshy, scarred oblivion. I
found another needle to pinpoint where
my house had once been. Before they tore
it down, it was painted blue and green,
blending with the grass and sky
appropriately, staining my feet with
natural paint that made my mutilation,
scratched out in desperation to retain lost
memories, pale into pathetic pink.
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