Stripes

Stripes of sun warm
bars
against my back
like new scratches or hot
laundry;
through bent blinds glows.

I can smell the warmth
heating my skin,
past perfumes
soaps
spit
kisses
bubbling like tar
in the dip of my back.

A burning five fingered
welt,
wrapped around my shoulder
blade, slicing heat underneath
and around,
beats.

-a.M