in stitches

By Rebecca Peterson, Assistant Editor

my skull it seems is paper thin

too weak to keep the words all in

it splits in half, a mouth that gapes

and spills and spills until I ache

I take precautions day by day

to cut down on the shit I say

thread the needle, work by touch

I add a stitch; I’ve said too much

this paper head isn’t much use

the eyes miss all kinds of abuse

the nose can’t tell perfume from stench

the teeth grind down, the jaw stays clenched

you see this face in all its glory

paper torn and edges gory

and use the ears like they’re your crutch

I add a stitch; I’ve said too much

some days the mouth rips free of thread

and words spew through the paper shreds

I find relief for moments, then

the silence fills the space within

what I expect, I never know

the shame seems hardly worth it though

I stem the tide, I break the rush,

I add a stitch; I’ve said too much

you want to know what’s all behind

the plastic heart, the paper eyes

you pull the stitches one by one

I let you try, and then it’s done

there’s piles of words; you take just two

you leave the rest, say “these will do”

it’s not that I’m surprised as such

I add a stitch;