Friday, June 12, 2015

The bones will not remember

The picket fence means to contain     not so different from her
body wrapped around her spirit     will one day be containerless--
cube removed from tray:  melted:  evaporated into air    no more visibile
than a thought streaking across a face     on occasion when she visits those earthlings she loves

              (what was her obsession with dying those years, they'll ask,) when she carried pain
              eleven times her weight    wading

towards her lover who would hold her in the night    make her eat
her lover would take weight away     once she spoke it into the swirl of her lover's waiting
ear     how then she would fear death-- feelings turned on their head now with so much to lose

               stiff as a board, light as a feather you could lift

her with a finger she's afraid she'll blow away too soon
once they burn her body to ash she'll settle into the crevices
of tree bark     hard to conceive 
her spirit won't miss
the body won't remember

all the aches    the feeling
she always felt of having stuck her finger into a socket--
everything frazzled     nerves frayed on a sound    neon
everything neon    grass neon    sky ablaze and hot eyes
in the light that makes her squint    she jumps
at the touch of her lover's finger     the smell of the breeze
splashes her nostril with citrus power    the body won't remember
the body that haunted as well as loved her    the body
through which she experienced pain and passion made her
bend    the body on its toes    which did it's job so well

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