Why

To love every strand of thread

on the tail of a kite.

To halt every drop in mid-air

of sticky saccharine liquid

dripping from my cherry popsicle

on the last day of school;

my own sugary tears

of taste and finality.

To warp my love

Convex/Concave/Convex/Concave

ultimately discarding it with brothers, sisters,

and mothers,

and other things I never really wanted.

I wrote to fix, to supply, to contour, to bandage,

To nourish, to caress, to paste, to clothe.

I wrote to apply pressure to afflicted areas

until the bleeding stopped

so I could leave my house,

not trailing blood

but dragging thick curtains of memory

in Lace like the train of a wedding dress