1.
What have you wrote upon my skin,
that roof joist where on earth scores crossed?
The environs you flung lie all about,
the disorder of my wanting waist
four-quartered - and conversely I lied,
I met your blade, you did me in.
Your knife's brownish assertion has staked this room
for all I've done, or not -
where you've reached, deposits muck you -
a turnup limed red, inked through, blood-sopped:
and I am charter where taste holed me,
from signifier to nonindulgent laid all about,
locked into modification as to this room
where unmoving I lie, unreasoned.
Buckled now by ripping's strait-laced meat,
you'll simply vanish -
yet I'll not be loosed from the bone
till morning comes, and finds me through with.
2.
Where you've bypassed, that's the end game:
I demand complete facts to get the missing right,
to systemise where on earth cracks aren't papered slam.
It's a system, arranged in a cellar, it has self-reference.
We can belief ourselves, danger is what's titled -
measured in the stewed deeds, anointed
and plumbed in the palate where the horror sounds.
What's been coming? What has the chest
and the inactive humor served to create,
this clean tourniquet, this darkened lid
closed on a increment maw? We undo and
bluntly gob out artifice, we rub seam on seam,
tighten ends and face the shuttered ball animate.
Creeping present we have the saddle sore / to cleft.
3.
It ran the fundamental quantity of all the life span you'd had
the day they splayed you spatchcock at the slab,
deboned you, sheared your skin texture and plugged
the lost warren that caused your bosom to get.
They left their mark - 8 inches and a part
of you embossed, discoloured, precisely scarred
between your breasts where all who could, could see -
yet you'd not change, would quit it be.
A bisulcate is what divides us in our lives
in diametrical ways, and what is undivided survives
reduction to the scars we hardly own -
these scrambled parts, abraded points that mark the day
the waters rose, and did not bear away
but efficient us instead, until we shone.
4.
palate cut
shin-bone barked
wrist drip-limned
finger burnt
knuckle gouged
axilla line
eyebrow flecked
kneecap drained
thumb flesh scorched
nose-bridge bust
thigh dog-bit
elbow knocked
ankle chipped
wristbone slashed
coccyx jarred
forehead caught
I sleep awake
and discovery it in
the darker parts
the soppy trace
a bosom maligned
or misaligned
a abstraction cleared out
to consumption its last
in agony
and in favorable faith
the angles left
abashed, preserved
the flesh warmth leaves
in you, the urge
abroad at past -
thin want's awash.
5.
A thorn-bright hook wherever you'd crept in
had dragged my gut up done my mouth
& covered you to the fault
I crane you from. A banner slip,
and yet I hauled you through the parts
where I hungered, decreased myself
& worn the hammer I frailed you next to -
you ran me off,
you prised the rot out from the gum.
The flower of the shortage of you had spread
throughout the heart-hung interior -
I skinned and worn your traces where
they discoloured - a bludgeon for a scalpel
and the thumping of a hide-bound hammer
were all it took to seal the tripe
I found in me. The residue was torched,
and I stood for a while to hot my hands
on all the clatter and wrath.
When organic structure burns, the boney sediment -
a structured part in the ash
is pestled complicated but still scum.
The urn holds clean until the closing -
but now I've shucked you from my own
there's no magnitude of grinding
that's to transport - what's through is done,
the wen of you minimized to nought,
your pulsation lengthy dried at a lower place my skin texture.
6.
My mouth's gum-arch and pin knot
has had me gagged;
the clamour transmuted and replaced
or coiled at the palate's line,
hawking objective while it gutted me
in the places wherever my will was in rabble.
Who's not weakened by a loss
becomes its receiver - rendered aftertaste it yet remains,
reshapes, appends.
Scarred where wounds have been closed,
we do not stay alive from mitt to mouth
but game of chance on what has been past -
they stitched me up, and wherever they stitched
they ready-made me whole. A clogged mass
I tongued and tongued,
a rough filament that reached to books,
that reached further than the mitt & mouth
to quality learning, quality gain,
and what it changed, it departed the aforementioned.
It's this I falter on recounting
what I talk about of my past -
for all the duration I cognizance and feel,
I'm made of what they learned:
I am made of acquisition.