The Scaffolding
       

1.

When I left home, all I took was a window
knowing there would be times I wanted to look back.
Life is designed to be open, but you knew that.
Still, when people become nosy I draw the curtains.
This is where language stumbles through its destiny
of hiding, privacy, and shame. Though I'm past all of that.

2.

In each lung, a secret lake, waiting,
where everything I own will spend eternity sinking.
How long can a favorite shirt hold its breath and where will it hold it?

3.

There are other secrets hidden in the kidneys.
All that stuff about the heart
is nonsense, nothing more than a pump
incapable of doing two things at once.
Do you know the similarities between skin and wallpaper?
You can write essays about them—I've done it more than once.

4.

Lovers have used my tongue as a red carper.
It's been said my elbows glow in the dark,
and on hot, humid days I sweat fireflies.
We all have quirks, but this isn't a contest.

5.

A DNA test concluded I'm the descendant
of a rusted car and a lightning storm.

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Copyright © 2020 Rick Bursky All rights reserved
from Let's Become a Ghost Story
BOA Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission