you're reading...

Like Stars or Not Like Stars

There are things the body contains, or that
contain the body        can it be one and the same
or, maybe, the same in difference– deference
to something further out of reach, a cold daybreak
too cold for the summer but it is summer.
There are times when the idea of body is country. Glass
through which we pass our judgement
or a map from which we trace a line
from bone to bone until the entirety
of “us” becomes something territorial. Perhaps
one may deserve a moment to become
a stopped timepiece from the 1890’s; 
heirloom, antique, junk, oneself.
And the bones reach themselves into the map, grasp
with what
this body contains
and move with
what this body is made from: the stuff of stars 
the cartilage of nebula       (closer)           your face
off to the left. Not smiling, not frowning. But furrowed.
But there, I could touch it. There would be bones and body and Autumn.


No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: