Reverse Origami

Who can take your place?

For who else will I bloom open

And to whom will I unfold my limbs

Like reverse origami,

Revealing the carvings on my core

That your surgeon-fingers made

With delicate tools I cannot possibly name?

You have weird fingers, too,

And thin skin is already creeping back over my lips

But who will have your round nails

Like ten little moons high on blood?