Oh, giant nose hair tweezers,

You comically large tooth-puller.

You make me feel like I’ve shrunk and I’m living

In a world of things that don’t fit right.

I laugh at you now,

But when you pluck away the word that

The tip of my tongue fumbles,

Or when your coldly ridged teeth gnaw on

The vivid yellow and glowing white of our first kiss

On the wiffleball field when it was just starting to rain,

Or the red flower he plucked and stuck in my hair

On a Pietrasanta piazza,

And you grow hungry for more,

My hands will grasp blindly for the memories you’ve stolen

In the night, in the day, one breath ago.

You’ll be the narrow, stilt-legged nightmare

Whose pincers click mechanically,

Applauding your own crimes.