a naked
body is
just a naked
body
until
someone sees
it. my father wants me to read
a wilting book called God Loves
Laughter
. my mother
wants
me
to take
my singular bottle of prescribed
antidepressants. i count the ripples
like tree rings.
years. only after
do i
jump
in and let the cloth
lick up on my
skin. i would live
waiting to look like myself or
at the least
a smeared oil pastel caricature
but then
i wouldn’t

live.