She feels the void in her chest expanding
feeding itself with its own fiber self-generative
organism of want the damaged organ of its color
splattered across the chapel stains
like stains scissoring across mantle
punctured lung tremble limb bleeding something
swollen that translates into closing
and who cuts the powder blade?
who returns the body?
who loves without loving neglect?
ungodly icon filling the space holes of ages ago
hole as carving unexcavated time
hole as a knife's footprint in moist soil
love as knife turning high as Almighty
the Kingdom of Euphoric Ends hole as whole cloth
hole as reenactment of the first unintelligible incision
hole as "I want to see what is beneath this skin"
hole as "Let me take care of you"
hole as museum exhibits of screaming
her back a powder smudge in the window
surrounded by lost artifacts too late for letting
resew each sinew mouth-deep in headache
subsisting on marrow soup uneven substitutes
apology letter to the body unwritten beloved
blind wading belief (it will come to an end)
a trickle of trauma softening the train coming in
that murmur of his departure like a field song
wandering in a maze of misplaced want
she has shaved its head ignored the hunger
capitulated hemmed in by quarantine All is
please faint linger lover come back miming
do I have power or does it have power
Learning to be but quieter
Our bodies are in a perpetual state of withdrawal and return, they must constantly be reclaimed from that bleeding something.