Him:
…
Her:
every morning, pick
a weapon of choice:
the same metal hammered in emotion
prick in different ways.
who would expect
the earrings I push through ears to
some days hang in heavyweight
shackles.
or why the end of
a necklace would slice lines
from neck to chest in the name of
scratches.
today I chose a double-fingered strip of gold
to yoke intention on us both
to prove the strength of my body under pressure
to punch the teeth out of doubt if it dared
masquerade as fate.
