PAPERS PLEASE

 

In my truest form I am
wearing goggles and
cutting onions. I took my pain
and did something with it, painted
my nails with a knife.
I exaggerate my abilities,
like all poets do.
The hanger knocks
against the inside of my closet
as I put on my clothes
for the day—two
left feet can fit in
a monster-shaped hole.