they're called hoops

Just over five weeks ago, he
made a hole—two, actually,
where my ears should be.
Not knowing how i should act
i sat
like i was getting a shot
—i didn’t used to be as
good at doing that.

he asked me if i
had a genre of jewelry
in mind and i
said “The ones that sort of
and took my fingers and
sort of did
a, you know, maneuver with them.
Made myself into jewelry,
and hung myself

i was the only one there incomplete—
unpierced and unpunctured and unpenetrated and
with so much skin.

He had so many.
He gave it to me, and in fairness
He really tried to brace me for it and
He really tried to imply that I probably should have taken a break between each lobe;
He was really gentle and cradled my chin as
He did it and
He gave me two Tootsie Rolls when

I started to freak out and thought I’d pass out
and die and I almost didn’t say anything because I really do
hate being a burden and this was probably my fault and
He was punishing me for ear sodomy and really it was so bad that
legitimately I thought for a moment Oh I should have been
Catholic

(i hadn’t eaten.
The Tootsie Rolls helped)

Just about twenty years ago, i made ear—two, actually,
where holes should be
Embryos have no fucking foresight, seriously

i lost skin and blood to look cute and I
really, genuinely couldn’t be happier.