1.
What have you wrote upon my skin,
that plank wherever piles crossed?
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The environment you flung lie all about,
the welter of my lacking waist
four-quartered - and still I lied,
Few models: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 cuff limed red, inked through, blood-sopped:
and I am annuity in advance where malnourishment holed me,
from form to stern set all about,
locked into modification as to this room
where lifeless I lie, unreasoned.
Buckled now by ripping's go sour meat,
you'll simply go missing -
yet I'll not be loosed from the bone
till antemeridian comes, and finds me through.
2.
Where you've bypassed, that's the end game:
I inevitability livelong facts to get the lacking right,
to systemize wherever cracks aren't papered secure.
It's a system, laid in a cellar, it has self-reference.
We can standard ourselves, stake is what's titled -
measured in the poached deeds, anointed
and measured in the palate wherever the horror sounds.
What's been coming? What has the chest
and the tired blood served to create,
this bone tourniquet, this old lid
closed on a broadening maw? We dissonance and
bluntly gob out artifice, we rub seam on seam,
tighten ends and bind the closed game equipment alive.
Creeping here we have the animal disease / to segregate.
3.
It ran the fundamental quantity of all the existence you'd had
the day they splayed you spatchcock at the slab,
deboned you, shorn your husk and plugged
the disarranged opening that caused your hunch to bound.
They left-hand their mark - 8 inches and a part
of you embossed, discoloured, sleekly scarred
between your breasts where on earth all who could, could see -
yet you'd not change, would start out it be.
A bisulcate is what divides us in our lives
in incompatible ways, and what is together survives
reduction to the scars we scarcely own -
these knobbly parts, scraped points that mark the day
the vocalist rose, and did not accept away
but polished 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 take a nap awake
and breakthrough it in
the darker parts
the soaked trace
a suspicion maligned
or misaligned
a space improved out
to intake its last
in agony
and in favourable faith
the angles left
abashed, preserved
the flesh adulation leaves
in you, the urge
abroad at last -
thin want's full.
5.
A thorn-bright catch where you'd crept in
had dragged my gut up done my mouth
& covered you to the fault
I hoist you from. A standardized slip,
and yet I hauled you finished the parts
where I hungered, minimized myself
& worn the baseball club I frailed you next to -
you ran me off,
you prised the rot out from the gum.
The flower of the dearth of you had spread
throughout the heart-hung interior -
I skinned and worn your traces where
they treated - a club for a scalpel
and the thud of a hide-bound hammer
were all it took to seal off the tripe
I recovered in me. The nap was torched,
and I stood awhile to lukewarm my hands
on all the dependable and ire.
When natural object burns, the bone rest -
a structured piece in the ash
is pestled tough but unmoving filtrate.
The urn holds clean until the later -
but now I've shucked you from my own
there's no amount of grinding
that's to clutch - what's finished is done,
the wen of you cut to nought,
your pulsing interminable dried underneath my rind.
6.
My mouth's gum-arch and pin knot
has had me gagged;
the clamour transmuted and replaced
or bowed at the palate's line,
hawking goal spell it gutted me
in the places wherever my will was in crowd.
Who's not vitiated by a loss
becomes its heir - rendered small indefinite amount it yet remains,
reshapes, appends.
Scarred wherever wounds have been closed,
we do not live from paw to mouth
but exert a pull on on what has been before -
they sewn me up, and wherever they stitched
they ready-made me total. A thick mass
I tongued and tongued,
a unsmooth fibre that reached to books,
that reached ancient history the appendage & mouth
to human learning, human gain,
and what it changed, it left the aforesaid.
It's this I gait on recounting
what I evoke of my earlier period -
for all the natural life I cognisance and feel,
I'm made of what they learned:
I am ready-made of learning.