Puzzle Pieces

my fingers trace the texture of tree bark
like puzzle pieces that don't quite fit
a design of growth and change
a beautiful story written in cracks and knobs
i look down at my own flesh
irregular ridges and discoloration
scars
like puzzle pieces that don't quite fit
and i wonder
if they can be beautiful on a tree
can they be beautiful on me?

Bleeding

some days

the words flow like blood from a severed vein

effortlessly

in a violent rush

a bleeding i can't slow

can't stop

some days

the words

must be painfully extracted

like the prick at the doctor's

when they try to draw a drop

needling and kneading till the finger aches black and blue

Autumn Leaves

she sheds words
the way an autumn tree
sheds its leaves
leaving a trail behind her
of fragmented poetry