mirror tree

have you ever walked so far
you lost your face?
i stand at a truck station bathroom
& try to make eyes with a sharpie marker.
i cannot draw as well as i wish i could.
we say a hail mary
as a siren cries out
in the deep forest. there is always
an emergency. on the radio
aliens are landing & offering us 
cream corn. a turkey is
plucking himself 
in the middle of time square. 
bare flesh. bear flesh.
a bomb goes off but it is also
a false alarm. no one is concerned enough
about the jellyfish. they bloom 
like bruises across my face.
i hit myself until there's a garden.
someone can love you
& also not know how to love you.
i think of scrubbing my eyes out
in my parent's bathroom
& wanting to be something 
they could put in their pockets.
i have never been something
that could fit into a wallet.
i used to be easier to love 
or else i was like a birthday cake.
buttercream roses. terribly cliche 
but always yearned for. a girl
is usually a birthday cake if she's not
a hachet. i don't want to be 
loved like this. i want it to be 
urgent & full of ripe pears.
i want the mirror to spit mangos at me.
i burry a hand mirror
beneath their tree. the tree says,
"be careful what you run away from."
the very next day 
the tree started to grow mirrors.
i stood in the driveway. saw
so many versions of my face.
i had to run away. walking until
my legs were coat hangers.
weeping until my eyes were
thankfully gone. i dream of returning 
to the mirror tree. cutting the fruit
& covering each one.