Squinting

he arrived
with his acid-washed face
and chewed-at fingers.
i squinted hard.
…
and my jaw popped
like the bones were trying
to escape their frame.
mouth wide open – not like
i screamed – i couldn’t
voice the words.
…
i ran my fingers through
his electrified hair
(just a habit).
...
i went into my head
like a monk. yet my
labyrinth gave me
no refuge – i was still
very much there, left
wondering how to
twist time or shatter
the impending memory.
…
he left,
clutching the side
of his shapeless head.
i made myself puke
in the sink.

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