It exists
apart from me.
I wear it, intricately
and it runs
in my blood
and it turns
to dust and scattered f rag men ts-
bones, hair
teeth.
But I dress it
the best I can,
in linen
and finery.
I wrap it,
hold it tight,
won't let it go from me.
You don't know
what I've sold
to keep it here.
And I'll only release it
when the worms crawl on me.
It can't escape,
and I won't erase
these pieces,
these traces
of carbon,
of atomic
energy, mass,
lines,
shadowed silhouettes.
Author notes
Written September 18th, 2005
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Wow! This was an amazing read. Whatever "it" is must be treasured far beyond any treasure... for "it" can be so many different things, and becomes something different for every reader. The form of the poem is brilliant! I've seen alot of people try to mimic this kind of form before, and failed miserably. You, however, did not. Well done! Keep dreaming in ink...
~K -
A wonderful form you have used. Interesting how you have shown the part of you that is, yet isn't a part of you. This is so wonderfully written, but that doesn't surprise me. Your writing is always excellent! Hugs, Murms ♥
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Excellent write lea,
I always love the form you use. YOu have the spacing just right, tells the reader when to pause. The last stanzas are magnificient, love the scientific approach. Wonderful write just wonderful.
~Dee -
This is excellent. I love the wording of this poem, bones, hair, teeth. That part reminded me of Plath. And well the way you speak of this thing also reminded me of her. Well, anyway I don't have much more to say. Asides from being poem dead I'm also comment dead. But this is gorgeous
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Wow. How very evocative. The words are brilliant and just great to see and read. Thank you thank you thank you. Tony.
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