Even after all the times I’ve registered your face
I can’t say I’m familiar. It must be that you wear
your life of dismantling on your torso so I’m busy
wrestling with your invitation to struggle.
Like a distant relative I try to stay
distant and like a distant relative I try
little to understand but I do understand
that I’m the birch and you’re the freeze
so I’m accepting with fighting resignation
that I wear my own dismantling on my torso too.
Like you, I’ve ruined most of what I’ve loved
and it all comes back in the form
of road, failed crops, or waking
like a sad hunger. I’ve been an amateur
in learning the structure of things, the scaffolding
to hearts but when it comes to gutting I’ve got it together
in spades. Master of anatomies, I want to imagine
a life of long harvests, fruitful scavenging
and building new, of putting the life back
into the bodies; there’s no room for apologies now.
marlo barrera
january 2011
2 comments:
you have a beautifully creative mind, i like it. I wonder if you started another one off with "there is still time now for an apology", where it would take you-maybe out of the dis-integration tone and into something forward leaning? I think it would be more diffucult, darkness is more descriptive.
good idea.
thanks!
i will try that out soon.
i wish i could see who you were!
you're blog is inaccessible to me.
boo.
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