Now her feet cause problems, too.
Silent, head bent,
she shuffles slowly,
on calluses so painful
she slits the tops of her shoes
and walks on gauze.
Ten years ago dogs barked
in Angelica's ears
as she lay tossing
every night in the dark.
She'd beg me, a counselor,
to make them stop,
take away the men who cursed
in her head.
"I hate them
bad words." (schleroderma)
Thin to near bone,
pale brown skin
tightening over mask face,
disease pulling
delicate fingers into claws.
Published in Rive Gauche