This ramshackle lizardy Lazarus,
nothing but distant glimmer in the dust.
I wish I could shoot blood from my eyes-
a spite-filled sanctification-
but I’m not that kind.
You think you’ve cut me to the bone,
but you’ll never see me run
with my tail between my legs.
That thrashing remnant, a distraction
essential impermanence.
Cold-blooded, I watch
your bloodlust starve as I scamper
towards the swollen sun. 
Someday I’ll shed this skin
to one you’ve never touched. 

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Nicole Shepherd is a poet and trauma therapist living in Chicago. Her work weaves humor, surreal imagery, and emotional precision, and has appeared in Maudlin House and the If You Ever Poetry Anthology.