Pulse
By Elissa Rosenthal
Metal on concrete thoughts
pulse under my skin,
keeping me from everywhere I need to go
and I have been.
Scritch scratch
and peel me thin
till there is nothing left.
Every day these systems
keep me alive, but,
what have I kept?
Muted senses
muted defenses
making it hard to speak.
Put me on a wall
like weaponry
in your collection
because I'm not me.
Pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse,
pulse pull, pulse
pulse, pulse, pulse, pulse,
pulse, pull, pulse.
