I
With her hands,
she asks my body
to 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.
II
Remember the body
that was once split open at the seam
where a tendon snapped
retreating into muscle
Remember the body
arms and hips frozen
from too many hours spent doubled over
pulling weeds and radishes
Remember the body bruised
and the body weeping
the body ripped open
and the body healed
Remember the body its cabbagey smell and bitter taste
after a night of hard drinking and unremarkable sex
Remember the body chastened
and the body reticent
the body as shelter
and as threshold
Remember the body running into the needly rain after a spring of drought
Remember the body a switchblade in dark waters
Remember the body sequined and glittering
the body quickening and deepening
the body loveless and burgeoning
the body fleeting—
a ripple in bathwater
Remember the body a chasm of desire
the body chrysalis
husk
the body almost but not quite
Remember the body its aftermaths
and its disbeliefs
its hellbent carelessness
and its bewilderment
Remember the body tectonic and shifting
the body careworn
the body overfed
imperfect
Remember the body its greenest astonishments
and revelations
even in its wreckage
even in the brackish rooms it builds for itself
III
in 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