skin care routine

sometimes hives break out 
along the back of my neck
like a garden path
to disappearance. i want into 
a room of potted mirrors.
watering the self & saying,
"you are worthy of softness."
lotion made from retired clouds.
a lightning bolt who 
wears high heels & speaks only
in similes. "your body 
is like a daguerreotype."
sitting still, i wait to 
return to my limbs. a gasoline serum 
in a dropper. just a little fire
to each cheek. evening out
the skin tone. i lay down
& wait to be raked into a pile
with the other leaves. 
something is always falling.
boys are always touching
their skin. he ties my hands
behind my back & i walk around
all day like a parcel.
where i am going there is
only knuckles. 
oil from weeping willows
rubbed into my scalp.
a bowl of dove's eggs mashed.
this is a mask of mud & worry.
lifting the grottos from 
my face. i want to keep 
every cave i have. i will need them.
the eyeless fish know 
what it means to wear a body.
i float on my back in a tub
of blood. i don't know whose blood
but isn't that how we live right now?
whose blood am i in?
then rinsing. patt dry.
almost done. now just for
a walk alone in a house 
of dust. finger prints on every planet.
wrapping myself in parchment paper.
i am not sure how or if 
i can feel renewed again.