i rewrote myself on the point of inscription
balancing on the cusp so as not to fall into the darkness on either side
when the blood welled red i got it off
leaving only a faint pink smear
near the torn part.
just a faint crust
to answer the question
left behind the rewriting:
why? why did i?
who do i think i am,
remaking god's image as i remake myself?
what do i honestly think i've left behind
and how far will i be able to go
into that pink-smeared wasteland?
it's starting to burn now,
the cusp sinking, myself listing heavily toward the dark sea
on one side the dreams of teeth beckoning
and to the other more and more inscription, inscription upon inscription
until no course seems even slightly open
but that one breathless breathless one--
i will rewrite me again and again
but i will not fall willingly
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