Bullet Holes in Cheeks By Hudson Warm ’23
Legal pad scrap Seven years you’ve been tucked Graphite on graphite smudging In the pocket of my winter coat My darling girl, Han, how I’ll miss you these next few months. I’ll be back before you know it.
See my windowpane for reference Of the tick marks; how many days ‘till dad’s back? Smudgened, bludgeoned, tick marks off the wood and onto skin ‘Cause for years the ball floated around the rim My limbs, bloodened, on a plate To serve to him, Him, hymn Who has reigned, rained, reined me in Did you give me this? The plate of limbs, chewy and loveless? The red-green, love-hate colorblindness? Here, the flames, hear the flames Spitting blaze, it welcomes you Legal pad scrap, falsely promised crap Your edges burn and curl and blacken I don’t want to find your author Any longer I’ve got your fucking freckles, mom says Bullet holes in my cheeks
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