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Underneath a Mobile
For years it felt like I was causing the downtown Memphis traffic
I always explained what I do and what I don’t, what I would if I could
Pacing even while the street is short of mouths
Because I was told I’d stay even with a muscular hand curled on me, with him, or anyone after
It was the last of what they hadn’t done
To them the incompleteness was something they could bet on
That was enough to see soft skin walk towards a batch oven
A pastry or my skin melting off
It was all the same
My analogy of skin has never felt foreign
When my love described peeling yours in detail I slept peacefully
Underneath a mobile
© venusianbaby