Across
Down
4. my silken hands
inherited callouses from
sunken dreams
2. I do not notice
when thorned nails
sprout from my budding fingers
7. my tight skin
spies into what
I have forgotten
8. what my body longs
to remember under
too-bright interrogation
1. entering, off-center,
into the self that
I can’t quite claim
10. creeping into shadow,
smeared along these walls;
my resistance flags
3. along this photon
shell enclosing who I
should be, who I know
5. to not be under
controllable unconsciousness,
moving
6. as gangly limbs belonging
to some other puppet stretch
to drink the moon’s brow
9. to spit freshly clouded
rain onto now-mud –
roll in that physicality
11. I part hazy lips,
slip out my cotton tongue,
and whisper
“i am”
Hands, skin, lips, and limbs create Gabriella Martinez.
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