[I apologize for misplacing your face]
I apologize for misplacing your face.
I redeemed myself in finding it. Yes
ex-dear, it was under the couch, fixing
the imbalance. I could watch television
without tilting. Now I know why. I was
sitting on your face for balance. Thank you.
The slits in the bottom
of my feet are still
exposed from when you
snuck into my skin. You
crept, slow and thin, a slight
unnatural bulge between
muscle and epidermis, faintly
noticeable and obscene, up my legs.
You burrowed when you reached
my stomach, and lay dormant
until I birthed you out, pushing
and screaming. No longer
parasitic, you were exiled.
Your eyes used to look
typewriters, moving right to left,
sometimes pausing slightly
in the middle, and then from left
to right without pause. This used
to make me nervous and I laughed,
strong and hard. The way your eyes
moved sounded like the teeth-
chewing you did in your sleep.
Filing down your enamel slowly,
sounding the way I crack my knuckles.