shaving cream

i start with the hair
& move to flesh. my skin rests
like a table cloth on top 
of a dinner. i am a roasted chicken
& a trifle. i am the grandmother of 
all sweet forests. i go past flesh
& arrive at muscle. i have always been one
to pick at my face like a graffiti artist.
here is the secret to the universe. here is
the prophecy. why is it always written
in blood? underneath the wallpaper 
is the secret map to where all
the crows are plotting a fresh future 
for me. the muscle is tough. 
doesn't come apart easy. is the remainder 
of every time i didn't say, "help"
when that's what i meant. eventually
& after lots of tearing & lots of towels 
to soak up the mirrors, i arrive at the bone.
here is where i am told the gender
is stored. i find nothing but little rhinestones.
my teeth into bells. good god this is
what i wanted. to be the skeleton girlboy.
to run then, leaving the meat like
old magazine in a pile 
on the bathroom floor. wiping shaving cream
from my hands. i take my skull to 
the cedar tree. become a lantern
& a lighthouse. all the moth come 
to worship. i promise i'll come &
clean up the mess when i'm done.