Anatomy of a Dress

It’s only two more blacks in the flesh.

It’s just glass-eyed dolly snarling from the bureautop.

The first chapter forcefully reiterates the concept of self-knowledge, as in if you are afraid, the animal inside you is trying to live, listen.

Dream of a hard brown poison rocket, an ankle-kiss
left by a shining rope in the dust.

So, listen. You don’t look like a puddle of wax in those sheets.
You can’t lie still, you have to wake up, you have to jump up hissing, all claws and teeth and eyes–

It’s still night. There is a man in the closet or he is a purple coat.
When the limbic brain is screaming, listen:

don’t be food, say no to the wish for bound arms and tape
at your teeth, swoon of terror, your rescue, the bars rattling in

leather gloves
tickling your throat with a knife. As in,
a little fear goes away.

Gotta gotta gotta change that ending!