skin care routine sometimes hives break out along the back of my neck like a garden path to disappearance. i want into a room of potted mirrors. watering the self & saying, "you are worthy of softness." lotion made from retired clouds. a lightning bolt who wears high heels & speaks only in similes. "your body is like a daguerreotype." sitting still, i wait to return to my limbs. a gasoline serum in a dropper. just a little fire to each cheek. evening out the skin tone. i lay down & wait to be raked into a pile with the other leaves. something is always falling. boys are always touching their skin. he ties my hands behind my back & i walk around all day like a parcel. where i am going there is only knuckles. oil from weeping willows rubbed into my scalp. a bowl of dove's eggs mashed. this is a mask of mud & worry. lifting the grottos from my face. i want to keep every cave i have. i will need them. the eyeless fish know what it means to wear a body. i float on my back in a tub of blood. i don't know whose blood but isn't that how we live right now? whose blood am i in? then rinsing. patt dry. almost done. now just for a walk alone in a house of dust. finger prints on every planet. wrapping myself in parchment paper. i am not sure how or if i can feel renewed again.