I am always in love.
Fuchsia petal hangs on for dear life
To a strand of spider's web who
The wind paws at like a kitten
Making it twirl
Round and round.
Tangled electrical cords;
Sensuous snakes.
Wet autumnal heaviness
Of a crinkling dead elder rose
Drooping like a ballroom gown's stiff corpse
Frozen billowing mid-twirl.
They lied when they said the heart and lungs
Are dead pieces of meat
With no strange electricity illuminating them.
They lied when they said things can be named.
But I lied too.
The spider bit me.
I tripped on snakes.
I tossed the rose in the garbage because I was told when flowers die they now mean nothing.
These days, the ribcage holds slabs of meat.
I lie every morning naked in the snow.
I cast a fishing pole into the grey slate of sky,
Searching for a flash of light peeking
Through a forbidden pinhole.
And every once in a while,
If I am patient,
If I am disciplined,
There is a voice
Dripping through the thick grey slate
And resounding through the rotting meat like a million newborn stars.
I think I see a violet peeking through the snow,
And then it is gone.
This is the inception and demolition. Right here. This air. This flesh. This pathetic hunk of meat. This beautiful voice of God herself bleeding from its pores. This is all. This is all. This is all.
pulsing in neck
screaming in belly
pound in head
fear of breath leaving
flash of iridescence behind my eyes
I threw a chair across the room.
A wooden chair
That gives you splinters.
It knocked against the wall then fell
And it started oozing blood.
I hurt the chair.
I grabbed the back of my neck and cut into it with a knife.
A cherry syrup started to pour out,
And whipped cream oozed.
And I tasted it and it was sweet.
And I decided I wanted it inside me,
So I sewed my neck up
And left.