Untitled - ScholarWorks Home - California State University, Northridge

Exchange Last Day of May
Hollie N. Stewart
Wa tch the crumbs fall
from my cracked brain­
snapped in two
to a place called
familiar love song,
played in the air of
the Ross Dress-For-Less,
less pleasing than
the ingrown toenail
plucked from my crying foot
by rough, male hands.
I bled two days straight.
"I don't know how you do what you do."
I shuttered when you grew,
as my heart opened walnut-style,
piece next to virgin piece.
With scared, sweaty palms,
I priced you among
various blouses, jeans,
plucking you from the hanger,
calling you mine.
''I'm so in love with you."
I dressed up,
painted my face,
dropped you down my throat
whole.
You hired the interior decorator
to recreate the meat of me
with pink Nair, with short skirts
of red plaid.
"It just keeps getting better. "
You reached extra large,
your tongue chopping my heart
paper-thin.
I continued walking
until you dropped me,
tearing skin, bleeding me
in red, translucent colors.
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