chapstick 

in the school mirror i am
a worm girl. the morning has 
one fresh blue for me to pull.
i take a picture of my teeth
& promise my boyfriend i have
never loved anyone else. i keep a 
strawberry chapstick in my throat
for if & when i want to have lips.
the sun rises like a dime. smaller
than i want it to be. i am getting old.
my glimpses of the school turn into
harmonica cages. i see on facebook
that an old friend believes in god now.
i remember his chapstick & borrowing
it once in an attempt to feel less alone.
he has wedding pictures. everything
brings flowers. my ex eats someone else's
teeth. i see him sometimes in 
the chinese place at the end of the world. 
he used to say, "i like you bite-sized."
there was kindness too though. he learned
what chapstick i used & kept one
in the bathroom at his house. once when
his parents weren't home we 
ate mulberries until we were sick
with purple. the night bruised 
across my face. he had perfect fingernails 
& a way of opening me up like an orange.
we went strawberry picking once. 
afterwards in the school mirror i could
find those tiny freckle seeds across my face. 
i grew a whole patch. plucked them 
& fed them to the crows in the field behind
my house. my mouth falls off sometimes still
to ask me questions i cannot answer.
"was that us in the back seat of the subaru?" 
"did he swallow the chapstick when
we were gone?"