When they come for you
Tell them you are poppies
You are Styrofoam
Show them the scars you carry from paper cuts
Tell them you are weak
And sorry
Press into their palms stones smoothed by the ocean
Tell them to take a piece of you home
A pound of flesh
A wound made fresh
Tell them you don’t bleed
Tell them you live in a tea cup
You saw a flying saucer
Tell them you are weak
Tell them anything you want
But speak.