ALT Self-portrait as the tree inside my body Not too long ago, I saw your face here but from a different angle. On the tiles of the bathroom floor, our bodies made love so casually. And after, you left a $100 dollar bill tucked into the dustjacket of my book in the study room. I used it to pay for groceries. Tucked the receipt into my wired bra. Mangoes, lettuce, all-purpose cleaner, the razorblades dulled by the sink. And after, I prodded my body open. And after, I ran through the medicine cabinet. I spoiled all the milk in the fridge. I slept. I slept. And after, I counted multiples. I remembered everything in threes. here is what I remember: the three minutes I sat there panting as you devoured me. the pictures you took of my underbelly. The mangoes I bought and split into threes. top. bottom. the middle seed I swallowed to no end.