it's leaking out in the tremors in my hands. i can't hold the tea that calms me.
i'm pregnant with ghosts.
my head is not big enough, my fingers turn black. i can't carry this fullness any more.
i don't even know what's in there. the ghosts are sworn to silence.
that doesn't mean they can't terrify because they do, they do
and my body is wracked with fear
these tremors, these dents in my head,
stabbing face,
what are you?
am i dying?
would you kindly let me know?
i am too full i am too full, please, a shunt for the skull? let the everything drip out. i've always been in favor of trepanning. twist up those ghosts a bit, i want them to squirm.
do you know, i wish for cobwebs? i wish for cotton.
help me carry it,
portage to the next river, and no i don't know how many miles or how much is muck
just, please?
and no, i don't know the way. that's your job, isn't it? making the torches,
disengaging the ghosts?
i think i'll go walk the dog in the sun now.
you can't see ghosts in daylight, right?
what lies they do tell.
No comments:
Post a Comment