Krystal Howard

Dream of an Incomplete Body

Inside this house I count my body parts,
Use a hook to touch each one of my teeth.
The rains come, fingers burn against the walls.
My mother falls on me like a hammer—
I see my future carved in her belly,
And then her ghost comes to me in a dream—
I count each of my hairs in the bathtub.
I break like balloons before my father,
And my mother sews buttons on my face,
She rocks me to sleep and I feel extinct—
My father’s watch, needle holes in my cheeks—
When I wake my ears fall like glass marbles
When I wake I count each of my fingers
When I wake I know that I’m unfinished.