more than detritus

This woman is a chest of drawers
who
opening and closing in the night
shares only ancient documents.
A collection of eyelashes dust the inside of a bottle
like insect legs
her pockets are filled with egg shells.
her blood is covered in skin shells.
More than detritus
more than a mistress
she smokes in the corner of night bars
sometimes singing, sometimes screaming
sometimes stealing the hands from clocks
she is gaunt gluttony. there is
no cock or literature too big.
Every night she scrapes at herself
with a pink eraser
trying to obliterate her own outline.
waiting for the hollow outside and the hollow
inside her to fuck.
Making her body a compromise of emptiness.