Retranslation

In the velvet mouth of an ancient AMC,

a new hair (lone strand in my left pit) eludes

my fingernails. I’m thirteen & fruitlessly

trying to pluck myself smooth again, smooth

as the cartoon cars on the screen, or Dad’s

hairless calves, shockingly sleek, pale

as pints of milk. Saturdays, he emerges

from the shower in nothing but tighty-whities—

furred chest, scraggly pit hair leaking like oil.

When my body becomes his body, I’ll destroy us.