Poetry

Unstitched, you visit 
my navel, without 
warning. There were 
 
bloody stains. I made 
no surrender. The bullet 
went very deep. 
 
Sovereignty was at stake. 
I sit like Buddha 
under a raging moon – 
 
invoking the spirits. An 
irreverence bites me, scares 
me to the bones. 
 
Glitch. I lost the vision. 
The nude version was 
very pure, very sane.