I remember your letter of gun metal,
How I read it between my ribs
Before I could stand to see it.
I was executed for the fifth time that day,
Convulsing in a pool of my own heart music,
Staccato on the antiseptic floor.
Control is between your thumbs.
Make your skin detectable.
One day it will be as a mirror.
If you are writing again,
use the electrical font.