My body is a thing
I leave out to dry
on the roof of my house
until it is white and parched
and ready to be written
once more.
My body is a contract
between the earth and its sun:
slow enough to lose itself,
strong enough to pull a soul
until the mud dries and
pushes it,
leaf-from-tree,
into the wind.
My body is a cage
whose bars I have defiled
by reaching through
prisons of bone
until the air crackles at my touch
with the promise of poetry.
My body is a temple
to a god I do not know--
but hear whispering
along the candles
and the stained glass windows
about the day stone will fall
and crabgrass will cover the shrine
and he and I
are released.
Heart rape is appreciated.
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3 comments:
This is entirely surreal.
Dammit, Bernard, why do you have to write so well?
Uhm, disjointed 5-am comment is to say, pretty much, that I'm going to have to re-read this a few times to understand it, I think, but right now I'm really appreciating the way the words fit together.
The last two stanzas, I think, are the best - mostly the second-to-last. Although I like the second stanza, too. And the first is quite interesting as well.
Uhm.
I might say something more productive later. But for now, I like this.
I absolutely love this.
"My body is a thing
I leave out to dry" - wonderfully put. Very nice imagery here.
"My body is a contract
between the earth and its sun"
Wow. WOWOWOOWOWOOWWW WOWOW WWOOWOW
WOW! Beautiful. Even for someone like myself (I'm referring to my atheistic beliefs) I think this is a nice way to convey spirituality and I guess a "heaven (?)".
"My body is a cage"
I started writing a piece with these words and didn't continue it and now I will. You'll read it eventually.
Very very nice.
RAPE!
RAPE
'My body is a temple
to a god I do not know'
Oh my.
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