When He Asked Her to Turn Him into a Poem

She removed his shirt
and pushed him

into the moonlight.

He became all silvery skin.
And so she painted him—deep black

covered portions of
his arms, his hands, his face,

until finally she moved him out
of the moonlight.

He disappeared,
except for a hand here, a limb there,

and also his eyes, the pale blue,
that reminded her

of the moonlight.
He was only floating pieces,

shining. And silence.

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About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she works as the Departmental Secretary of English and World Language Studies at Indiana University South Bend, and remains closely affiliated with 42 Miles Press, New Issues Poetry and Prose, and Wolfson Press. She previously received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose and as an Assistant Editor of Poetry for Third Coast. Her poems have appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, Thank You for Swallowing, Whale Road Review, The James Franco Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on her website and on The Rumpus. She lives with her husband, their daughter, and three cats. For more, visit www.mckenzielynntozan.com. View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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