7.
What would you like? I’d like my money’s worth.
Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this-
swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood
on the first four knuckles.

We pull our boots on with both hands
but we can’t punch ourselves awake and all I can do
is stand on the curb and say Sorry
about the blood in your mouth, I wish it was mine.

I couldn’t get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.