A corkboard cutout full of tacks
A body outline in chalk, still warm
The Blacktop Rules include
A Hopscotch child at the crime scene
So the first thing you’ll scrawl across me
Is your name.
Evidence-tamperer I might be a silhouette
To you but
I wasn’t snipped from fabric or
Stencilled into pavement
To be peeled up like a sticker and stuck
To your wall.
This is no Finders Keepers.
I’ve been weighed down by that
Mirror they hung around my neck
For much too long.
A thing to see yourself in—
I forgot what it felt like to do away with
Honey, I’m a raindrop
Racing down your windowpane
And that sky is about to break.
There’s a siren in the distance and
Some kind of guilt, kettle-hissing…
I’m afraid I’m just an unreliable witness
To a hole shaped
Like a person, missing.
Artwork by Piero Fornasetti