Birth Marks

There’s a birth mark
on the crown of my middle finger
a boy closed his eyes in one room
and opened them in another
looks more like a mark
from pressing too hard
the best kind of bruise
dotting his upper lip

The sand is fake
crushed from the step
some left quickly
some stayed behind
where she let mouthfuls of smoke
into the air
planting dragon-shaped clouds
in every kid’s squint

The sand is fake
but she still wrote her name in it
my sister
wrote a boy’s name on a tree
and watched
as it was swallowed whole
the bark peeled off
by the end of the summer

The day
I told him I was sick
I found a freckleĀ 
at the base of my neck
too free for his bed
back against grass
necklace from the sun
middle finger anniversary

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