IWith her hands,she asks my bodyto let go of what it’s carrying.The body (me) resists.These are mine, I want to say of all the rooms of grief she’s coaxing out of flesh.I’ve carried them all this way for so long just to leave them here. IIRemember the bodythat was once split open at the seamwhere a tendon snappedretreating into muscleRemember the body arms and hips frozenfrom too many hours spent doubled overpulling weeds and radishesRemember the body bruisedand the body weepingthe body ripped openand the body healedRemember the body its cabbagey smell and bitter tasteafter a night of hard drinking and unremarkable sexRemember the body chastenedand the body reticentthe body as shelterand as thresholdRemember the body running into the needly rain after a spring of droughtRemember the body a switchblade in dark watersRemember the body sequined and glitteringthe body quickening and deepeningthe body loveless and burgeoningthe body fleeting—a ripple in bathwaterRemember the body a chasm of desirethe body chrysalishuskthe body almost but not quiteRemember the body its aftermathsand its disbeliefsits hellbent carelessnessand its bewilderment Remember the body tectonic and shiftingthe body carewornthe body overfedimperfectRemember the body its greenest astonishmentsand revelationseven in its wreckageeven in the brackish rooms it builds for itselfIIIin a room inside my body in a long hallway in a dark box full of stale air i say to the dark come out of me so i might rest i have been too long under the sun the weeds have grown tall and the ticks and fleas are bleeding my legs and i do not know where home is