these quaking hands

produce no craft

save snaking touch

and groping theft

in backward mirror

this peter pan smirk

a gift I give

in cellophane wrapping

a strangling noose never noticed

and discarded
 

dabble your wares

on this stubbed canvas

and smear me a picture—

messy hologram romance
 

lacquer up your brush

and I’ll help you stroke

but fingerly flesh

paints the best

arcane lovers.
 

spiderweb your craftsmanship

over this body

whilst I,

spinning inner weavings

spooled in stomach linings,

chew on this hollowness

i’ll never give back