He flayed me
Scalp to pelvis, I can only peel
the rest off and leave It
lying on the ground, raw
and exposed. I gather the pieces to
arrange them how they
were, to glue them back together, but
they don’t fit me
anymore.
So I bury the skin
in the earth, surrounded
by lilies and maggots,
and I see myself
lying in the husk.
Rotting.
I scrape the soil in
The grave keeping
my gaze up
to avoid seeing me—
my eyes—
wide open.