ericjasongastelum - 6/4/2008 12:40 PM ET
... you haunt me
I. Double estrangement – I wind the clock with my little finger, once twice twenty-six years, mamachka! Can you stand it? Does it make your ribs taut beneath the skin? To hear the same chime of longing, that coiled worm in my throat its little glass bead body voice a crowded chasm yawning, unarticulated, suspended in space like no particular bird. I’ve been here before, Both with you and without – lusting after the distant sun, bowing to your heavy moon II. Double estrangement, Once when I was born, Rolled out of the womb to the drumming of wasps Crashing at the window In protest. Bones smooth like river rocks figs, thyme Tapestries for eyes random holes and hornets’ nests Pock marks on the skin that surrounds them – Lets them breathe seethe, Long enough to starve hunger Then again, The midwife to my heart Gripped the heels and spun the skulking Bits of moss and slime out of my hide My hips My lips swallow, burn, crack like such simple fruit. Who is this ghost, this gambler? Strangling the fish’s wish honing his skill to be submissive to the deep to the caves to the waves. I have seen the sound, let it fall like sand through fingers Poised like thorns, proud peasants to the stem I am alive, you see embalmed in your sadness. |
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