but her hands
will always seem
like strangers,
pale animals
with a life
of their own,
loading, clicking.
She brushes her
colorless hair
200 times, as if
where her father
moved thru her
was still a stain
she could ease
out, slamming
each strand as
if to exorcise
his smell, his
breaking and
entering his
body a gun
Originally appeared in Clock Radio 5.
