Susan Milchman | Poet and Writer

I am a girl

covered with pâper-maché.

A map of the World,

my skin.

Tropic of Capricorn cuts

across my heart center,

unspooling my compass,

separating my oceans.

Salty violent seas

swirl at my temples,

scorching desert sands

flood my ears,

blow into my eyes.

I feel everything,

like a starving lover,

yet, I possess nothing.