Stigmatized in a Yellow Dress

no I don't think I'm Jesus. but it's a fun idea... this still kind-of a work-in-progress.

stigmatized in a yellow dress

my lemon frosting … mouth a pleated blade

   apple crust thighs

swish swish the halls

 idle nubs map ink through my side,

a black scratch into each palm, trailing

around my face, wondering martyrdom

a boredom.

           with a bell, we rise…

and sneakers trail with clicking tips,

rubber soles pad the halls in a buoyance.

nails – pens – black tongues,

   fire & delight.

the imagery overwhelms me,

   & I crumple from the wood-panelled doors

to the cool white wrappings of linoleum.