pen smudges

i wash pen smudges

off my hands

in the shower.

at night, i dance around my

room on featherlight

feet and pretend

i don’t notice the noises i make.

unaware and

undisturbed

some part of me

somewhere,

believes with all her

faithful heart

that i cannot be ruined,

or tarnished,

or tainted.

shorter poems

and shorter hair

and every lovely part

of me.