I shed tears like corn husks,
like feathers at a molting,
a saltwater bloodletting
draining the liquid of a past self
to become new and dry and hollow,
like skin flaking against the
scratch of nails badly chewed
and too much sun, like
mink in spring,
when I will emerge
pale and raw
and empty,
like some other simile
in some other poem
by some other writer
of tear-smudged letters
that speaks with my voice,
we two (or many) beings
mirrored in tears
shed like corn husks.