I am well acquainted with confusion

Its sore remnants map my body

And colour my soul.

I will darken parts for texture and depth

And smudge

And thicken

And distill

And erase

A starmap, a terrain

A palimpsest of constellations

In which every glowing point both complicates and explains me.

And of course I feel exposed.

But I entreat you

To hang it on your wall

Like a portrait

And critique,

If gently,

To assuage my fear.