Wednesday, April 3, 2013

April 3rd Kristin



 I've Forgotten It All At This Point


once my stomach walked out and away from my body
left me for a greater passion, not a lover,
it promised

without it my life became, at first, mundane
the birds passed by without singing
the stone stuck in my shoe became less sharp—
could it be my nerves are ready to leave me too?

what was left was a hollowed out space large enough
for a small fox to crawl into, large enough to build a den,
safe enough for her to birth her litter, to nurse the kits
until they were able to open their eyes and crawl
out, and up, and down my legs
as if I was no different from the ground I depended on for walking

when the foxes grew old and too large
for my own cavity
they left
I became aware of this loss, the intensity of it
of all that is losing

acid bloomed out from where my stomach
once was like the ink of a squid
what else could regrow at the same rate as its own disintegration?

not I,
I yelled right before the crows found me

it isn't true what they say though,
crows don't peck out the eyes first
or would even sense them as a weakness  

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