27.
as i move through the coriolis of whirl and spit
i realize my name is just a borrowed sound—
an unconscious intonation of hum and stop
the spirit does the work of carrying the body
and the survival manual and does its best
to act as if nothing is heavy
removing the thorns with gentle fingers
washing the wounds in the shadows
giving the least dangerous answers
to the three-headed dog
on the dim and windy
path
29.
before the medicine
i would chew the inside of my cheeks
as the shame astringed
my mouth
as if i could absolve myself
through self-cannibalism
i find myself doing it now
as a blind calisthenic
the punishment
given from a duplicate father
with my bloody
teeth
29 (2).
lately when i lose my pants
in my dreams i don’t care
and i only spend a few seconds
searching for them in the magnesium fires
i am still trying to clean out my vehicle
all the burnt sulfur stuck
in the undercarriage like popcorn kernels
with the eels and motherly spiders
i realize that no one cares
that my genitals are displayed
they only query about what
i owe them
and i pull some anemones and lampreys
out of the trunk and hold them out
and they look like they were expecting
something else
and spin and walk
briskly away
Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN in the Seattle area. His most recent books are 500 Hidden Teeth (Meat For Tea), Sapphires on the Graves (Glass Lyre), and dear tiny flowers (Sheila-Na-Gig).
Image: Luc Tribolet, unsplash.com
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