Sewing machine

I shot myself

In the side of the head.

The bullet: a needle and thread

Two inches above my ear

Threading through

one side of my skull to the other

In a rich red thread

Gorgeous crimson

Weaving a thick embroidery under

the surface of my eyes

Again and again

And again

And again

The thread breaks through,

The bullet weaves

Over and above the cap of my skull

Sleeping down

neck and arm-

Eyes watching as the thread

entombs the body-

A red so harsh it’s white.

The strings: neat and orderly.

Church pews.

It stitches up the hole;

Muffles the noise.

The needle stops.