ah, matryoshka
how perfect your round face
how full your figure
no one would know
anything is wrong
as long as you
keep your back straight
your chiropractor must be very good
but slip out of alignment for just
one
second
and the jig is up
everyone can see that you’ve been
cut in half
severed at the waist
what were they trying to discard–
the upper half?
or the bottom?
and when you split open
what will we find?
your inner child?
your trauma body?
or have you burned through those
with therapy
and repression
and now your shell is just that?
stare at the clouds at sunset
watch the color drain
the threat and promise of night is fulfilled
Tag: poetry
something something yesterday
hidden from view where i sit
in the sun with the sleepy cat
i hear shouts from young men
playing a game
soccer or volleyball
there are courts nearby
this is not unusual
yet something about the sound
and the color of the sky
hit’s me like a cosmic flyswatter
and i am ten
there
back there i can smell the blue sky
and taste the angry bee-buzz of
remote controlled airplanes
in my mouth like live marbles
the copper penny blood coin
heads up on the sidewalk
under the sole of my bare foot
i am there
it is wet mowed grass summer
and
and
and
my heart feels crushed
when the smell of the man-made lake
reaches me here across all
this time
this ridiculous calendar falsehood
because i am still there.
right there
barefoot in the grass
smelling hot gravel
the alyssum taste of summer
in the back of my throat
but my bones
my bones
taste like old gunpowder
reflection at 6:30 AM
early morning walk
a pregnant moon
its descent frozen westward
a thin sheet of water
not enough to call a puddle
but enough to surprise
a downward glance
an unexpected
glaring white eye
failed gravity
i have imagined my gravity failing
it’s not what you think
if what you’re thinking
is your feet disconnecting
from the earth
as your lead-heavy bones
float helium-inflated heavenwards
you will be walking
fallen behind the dog
during the walk
the rhythm of the toenails
on concrete
is someone tick-tock flicking
sun bleached vertebrae
resting just below your skull
you feel it
then
right there
a sudden dissolution
as you come apart
not like in the movies
where some magic spell turns you
you into dust
that dissipates on a breeze
blowing from the space-time you once occupied
it’s much deeper
more personal
because you stay you
as you come apart
skin cells, hair follicles,
hemoglobin, nerve tissue,
pasty blobs of greasy fat
in your gut and in your brain.
–and smaller still–
organelles, membranes
mitochondria, tightly wound strands
of dna unbraiding itself
proteins and elements and atoms
and bosons and gluons and quarks
each quanta impossibly separating
coming apart
there’s no explosion
in this failure of gravity
no small pile of ashes or dust
no spark
no chilling sound effect
you’re just there
completely in pieces
too small
to see
to put back together
you expand whitmanlike
and assume all space and time
and there is no heat death
because there was never heat
leaving a few feathers behind
i wing my way
over the stubble field
the grain shaved
from the earth
few kernels left for scavengers like mice
or me
and come to rest on your shoulder
you don’t greet me
with words
but the breeze animates
your straw head
and it looks like you nod
friend–I say–
friend, my visits to you end today
there is a horizon that calls to me
and the field has been harvested
and soon you will descend this pole
borne away by hands of flesh and blood
i wish i knew what would become of you
the wind makes you shrug
as if the question doesn’t concern you
perhaps it doesn’t
to the west the sun melts into the horizon
whispering my name
or was that you
speaking so low that I doubt
all of my senses
even the common one
delicatessan arts
the sausage knows
the terror of the spinning blade
and the suffocating tightness
of the casing
consider the snail
you think he moves slowly
but the atoms and subatomic particles
that comprise
his mucosal turd-like body
move at the speed of light
he is constantly flying apart
like an atom bomb
splitting, dividing
burning the oxygen
out of the sky
but you watch and feel sorry
for how long it takes him
to get across the sidewalk
motherfucker, he’s already where
he needs to be
he’s fucking everywhere
and so are you
and because of the illusion of solidity
you pass right through each other
without even touching
without so much as leaving a grease stain
just like in all your star trek wet dreams
eclipse
how strangely things line up
the total eclipse of the sun
the guy who slips in front of you
for the checkout line that has the cute checker
and his basket is full
and you have only two things
the lady at the butcher counter
who doesn’t bother taking a number
and she is buying for a birthday party
and texts her husband what to get
or the frazzled minivan mom
who loses the parking spot because
someone takes it before the other car finishes backing up
how much is the light dimmed
how much does the temperature drop
how the tidal forces grip and twist the skull
and ribcage
with the dark side of moon
gazing fully at the glory of an unobstructed sun
will the moon remember how to move
pluck
we all come from the ocean
or
we are all stardust
or
we are the universe talking to itself
now we look into the mirror
and
we pollute the air to reach the stars
and
we hear the ocean in our ears
when we try to fall asleep
taste salt in the back of our throats
dissolve back into particles
and
finally sine waves infinitely long
stick
heads on sticks
we ride around like
we’re playing cowboy
ghosts holding the reins
what did one horse say
to the other
how should I know
i don’t speak
disembodied horse head
clutching the poles
with our thighs
charging forward
clip-clop noises
with our mouths
clip-clop noises with our hearts