I always go for birch,
stripping my clothes but not the branch.
I leave it jagged.
This is my choice.
handing him one that’s supple and snappy.
One that cuts as he whips.
I’ve never been able to trust
my body to do what’s best.
I’ll scratch with my fingernails
when the itch comes, when the healing begins.
Making camo of scars
I am vanishing with every line,
becoming striated as the winter woods.
Switching and striping.
Switching and striping.
One day I’ll stand still amongst the trees
watch him pass right by.
Lorrie Ness is an emerging poet working in Virginia. Her work can be found at Palette Poetry, THRUSH Poetry Journal, Typishly and various other journals. In 2019 she was nominated for a Best of the Net Award by Sky Island Journal.