Stop putting walls on my face
Her legs haven’t purled the air like seedlings
or splat palmed the gym mat halfway through a handstand.
She hasn’t let her Uncle tie her tooth to a string
and dunk the door shut.
She hasn’t eaten pop corn, cysting warm from the pan
or stroked a strangers dog while thinking how exactly
like continents clouds are. She hasn’t danced alone in her room
to a band she knows she shouldn’t like
or planned trips to places on her globe lamp.
She hasn’t made a map of all the ways to get over things
which happen like cement in the night
and her face is just a foundation.
