1.
What have you wrote upon my skin,
that sign wherever lashings crossed?
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The surround you flung lie all about,
the disorderliness of my absent waist
four-quartered - and nevertheless I lied,
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I met your blade, you did me in.
Your knife's mushroom accusation has staked this room
for all I've done, or not -
where you've reached, deposits filth you -
a turnup limed red, inked through, blood-sopped:
and I am lease where need to eat holed me,
from theme to stern laid all about,
locked into passing as to this room
where immobile I lie, unreasoned.
Buckled now by ripping's pungent meat,
you'll simply peter out -
yet I'll not be loosed from the bone
till antemeridian comes, and finds me through with.
2.
Where you've bypassed, that's the end game:
I necessitate complete facts to get the wanting right,
to systemize where cracks aren't papered secure.
It's a system, set in a cellar, it has self-reference.
We can code ourselves, danger is what's titled -
measured in the boiled deeds, anointed
and plumbed in the surface where on earth the fear sounds.
What's been coming? What has the chest
and the measured humour served to create,
this clean tourniquet, this darkened lid
closed on a broadening maw? We take apart and
bluntly gob out artifice, we rub seam on seam,
tighten ends and bandage the shuttered game equipment vital.
Creeping here we have the gall / to pronged.
3.
It ran the physical property of all the natural life you'd had
the day they splayed you spatchcock at the slab,
deboned you, sheared your wrapping and plugged
the misplaced den that caused your heart to leap.
They disappeared their mark - eight inches and a part
of you embossed, discoloured, tidily scarred
between your breasts wherever all who could, could see -
yet you'd not change, would move off it be.
A cloven is what divides us in our lives
in several ways, and what is full-length survives
reduction to the scars we scarcely own -
these knotty parts, scraped points that mark the day
the vocalist rose, and did not bear away
but finished 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 animal tissue scorched
nose-bridge bust
thigh dog-bit
elbow knocked
ankle chipped
wristbone slashed
coccyx jarred
forehead caught
I have forty winks awake
and brainwave it in
the darker parts
the soaked trace
a intuition maligned
or misaligned
a extraterrestrial cleared out
to sucking its last
in agony
and in cracking faith
the angles left
abashed, preserved
the flesh esteem leaves
in you, the urge
abroad at finishing -
thin want's afloat.
5.
A thorn-bright catch wherever you'd crept in
had dragged my gut up done my mouth
& covered you to the fault
I hoist you from. A regular slip,
and yet I hauled you through the parts
where I hungered, small myself
& frayed the slam I frailed you next to -
you ran me off,
you prised the rot out from the gum.
The come into flower of the removal of you had spread
throughout the heart-hung innermost -
I injured and eroded 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 leftovers was torched,
and I stood awhile to warmed my hands
on all the sound and temper.
When body burns, the bone object -
a structured part in the ash
is pestled unenviable but stagnant scum.
The urn holds bone until the later -
but now I've shucked you from my own
there's no amount of grinding
that's to clutch - what's through is done,
the wen of you shriveled to nought,
your wave long dried in my rind.
6.
My mouth's gum-arch and pivot knot
has had me gagged;
the blast transmuted and replaced
or bowed at the palate's line,
hawking intention while it gutted me
in the places wherever my will was in crowd.
Who's not lessened by a loss
becomes its heir - rendered hint it yet remains,
reshapes, appends.
Scarred where wounds have been closed,
we do not untaped from manus to mouth
but create a centre of attention on what has been earlier -
they seamed me up, and where on earth they stitched
they made me undivided. A clogged mass
I tongued and tongued,
a unsmooth yarn that reached to books,
that reached on the far side the appendage & mouth
to quality learning, quality gain,
and what it changed, it leftmost the selfsame.
It's this I gait on recounting
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what I callback of my yesteryear -
for all the energy I get the impression and feel,
I'm ready-made of what they learned:
I am made of basic cognitive process.