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contusion

—after sylvia plath's 'contusion'

 

the girths of the seasoned girls hold secrets

bare, oily expositions in subtropical sun

the past's darkening repercussions sub rosa

 

what was rose swiftly goes to lilac and lost denim,

in a week will be chartreuse, ending in fawn

wet behind the ears

living very far away and having resigned herself to certain attributes

of my personality—which are mostly blamed on the poor

conditions of the countries I choose to live in

and/or my father’s side of the family’s genetic

predispositions, she finally instructs over the not so

small phone placed under the only plant

i can really keep alive—bamboo,

if you were wondering: “get it while you can…

your figure,

your brains,

your secretions,

—they all leave you.”

my mother advises, and the support becomes bakhtinian

grotesque in that instant.

i would like to bring this up to the poet women

whom i plan, cackle, dream, and dine with.

instead we like

to talk about how long we can last

until wet

or dry shampoo is in order.

 

whom are we challenging?

'leaves' in reverse

just as you bend for me – i refuse you; cervix closed and low

just as I bend for you my love – backwards on your used, used...[climax]

like a Muslim bending down – you scratch at traditional molds

wind bending its devoted bough – breathing death wasps into velvet bedroom skies

blowing my blood smooth and cold – melting coolness past the rough

wind bending the bough – exhaling dirge

wind shaking the leaves – vibrating each lash

pink streaking the hill – pillow parts winding a willow path

each blank thing begun – clean sheets as erasure

known how to open it – envelope folds tight at the corners

on my soul had I – in my maze inside

have been water – wetness was once

of a work that might – the only job that could

were the author – be a creator

sitting opposite me – parks at the foot of the bed

whether the person – no matter the other

I not know – identity not withstanding

did I know or did – was it sketched or etched

to cover me – under safe weight on exposed skin

for me and made – personalized and sent

filled with bugs made - living crawling sewn in each thread

a nightlike color – if midnight was orange

hidden in it – the stars would hide

men standing in it – men in quicksand

exuded by the three – abundant times redundancy

a green place – a lush reprieve

I saw skulls and then brains – seeking bones and inside

 

- after “leaves” by ariana reines (p.132 in mercury)

schematic, not to scale

wristwatch tocks

amplified against

internal

search for truth

 

sloughed skin lost,

evanescence meant

eternal

search for youth

 

lachrymal costs,

everything is wet

external

self-abuse

 

used snuffbox

abandoned & bent

diurnal

told excuse

advice against being too sulky in summer: a nonet

a trail of black slips the others, but 

not the maker—she's now since gone.

eyes up for adverstising—

down for preservation.

prancing now retards,

'menacing toes!'

be grateful!

you're still

wet.