Issue 7, Winter/Spring 2009

Dawn Marks, by Elizabeth Kate Switaj

  daylight doesn't break
bends glass—through glass
  over my sleeping skin
where it mostly bounces
     losing more in freckles
& turning trapped

                  ricochet in wrinkles
left across my forehead
when I tried to understand
                   Finnegans Wake &
       small talk &
how far away to stand
    from a stranger
    from a friend
    from an ex
    friend
           so she couldn't see
who she blamed for losing him &

     vertical lines
over my nose
             from curling in against
menstrual cramps &
I can't understand
how a rapist writes love poems &
a woman accepts them
who knows &

             wrinkles mean I didn't break
              skin deep

enough to scar
except where daylight
             doesn't break