I tag every piece of you I can see and not see
when I run out of ink, I prick out
my own warm blood. you grin
and I dabble myself all over your boxed life,
stain your breath
and call it my breath,
smudge your memories
and name them my memories.
I say isn’t it so wonderful to
be in love, my love? But you didn’t,
couldn’t answer. Just the night before
I had wrapped your ears
in layers of cellophane,
shipped them to my hidden universe.
Tamara L. Panici is constantly scribbling on food wrappers and scraps of paper. When she is not reading or writing, she can be found eating bizarre foods, riding the bus to nowhere, or lifting heavy weights. She has works forthcoming in Fjords Review, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Abyss & Apex.