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Don’t you know my face? Didn’t you / break it open? Being beautiful, it’s no crime.

Poetry | Christina Im, Poetry Tuesday, poetry
November 5, 2019

after BTS

Catch my breath like a stone and throw it—
make a tight dress of whatever it kills. Let’s dance.

I’ll mutiny me a new head for this neck; cut me
a halo to keep it there. Border caught silver, profane

around my throat: dirty word you teach me so I know I’m dangerous.
I’ll stride on over it into my own

mouth. I’ll sit with my back to your white
camera. My true name your only weather.

Make me mine, alleluia. Pale me out of your sickest ribs.
Behold, the myth that already moves, every breath jeweled

into better bones. Take one, weigh it, sigh into its skin.
See the world shiver over my back like wings. My own

cut bloodlines singing me awake. Look,
I have a ravenous pulse, and it’s cracking the amber

around all your eyes. It’s your storyboard. Your props
in revolt. It’s your signature packed like ash

under my tongue. Don’t you know my face? Didn’t you
break it open? Being beautiful, it’s no crime. Take the blame

for what you’ve built. I move pure, bloodied,
stupendous. Honey. I’m going to love me all the way back.