Daphne used the razor to sculpt her
pubic hair into hearts and arrowheads
pointing down or on special occasions
a star, or stars and stripes, or The Star
hanging above the nativity. For Halloween
a scaredy cat, even though I rolled my eyes.
For my birthday, a peacock and rivers, my red
fingernails like coho salmon jumping upstream.
Once, she made an island with hibiscus
where we could rest, drinking piña coladas
and kicking sand at the incoming tide.
The last time my feet tugged her jeans
past her ankles, she had carved herself
into a jungle with vervet monkeys
laughing too much and a lion yawning
next to the birthmark on her thigh. She came
covered like the moon through so many trees
and I hid under a banana leaf until morning.