Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-seven
Spring 2015
Jay Sizemore

We are most naked when we don’t wish to be seen.
We are naked when we say no.
We are most naked when our trust is broken,
the stuffing pulled from the rag doll,
one plastic eye rolled under the couch.

We are naked when we are alone,
car keys clenched like daggers through a fist,
trying to stare through the reflection
and find that girl who believed in dragons.
We are most naked before dawn,
before lipstick, before touching the cold
toilet lid, looking for a minus sign.

We are naked in our father’s eyes,
protected in an embrace that must end
just as breathing must end,
and leave us clutching at dirty shirts,
trying to remember his scent.
We are most naked in our daughter’s eyes,
when she asks us if dragons are real.

About Jay Sizemore

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