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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