Fifteen Stitches
By Amanda Oaks
Love is well-versed in this,
the way you try to slide it
up your sleeve— the knee-jerk,
the too much color in your cheeks,
the urge to scream. Love knows
that this will be brief. Doesn’t worry,
knows you swallowed every bit
of your life down looking for it—
so it laughs at how your teeth
try to chew on thirst. This
desire, this drive, all gas pedal
no steering wheel. Tries to
warn you but the brake lights
are blown out. Love doesn’t mind
the occasional head trip,
says, honey, I know graffiti,
how you’re trying to paint over
the colorless, how your hands
will hold the stain for a bit
but you’ll never wash them
of the crime. Says, it’s okay
to eat your heart out over this,
it’s okay to invite them all over
to watch, knife & fork in hand
as you make the incision wider,
as you hand out the blindfolds
so they won’t see him
wipe the blood
from your mouth.