As a girl I made my calves into little drinking elephants,
I would stare at the wonder of their pumping muscles,
the sup of their leg-trunks. I resuscitated a bunny once
from my cat’s electric teeth. I was on neighborhood watch
to save animals, as many as I could. My damage was easy.
My plainspoken voice is a watercolor. I’m afraid of it
as I’m afraid of what the world will do to color. I don’t
think I’ve done much. A table leans against itself
to be a table. I hold nothing but this air. I give it off.
I want a literature that is not made from literature, says Bhanu.
Last night my legs ached a low-tone. I imagined the body
giving itself up for another system. Dandelions tickling
out of my knee. The meniscus a household of worms.
It is okay to bear. My apartment hums in a Rilke sense.
A pain blooms. I am told that it’s okay to forego details
of what happened. I am told it doesn’t matter now.
I want to write sentences for days. I want days to not
be a sentence. We put men in boxes and sail them away.
Justice gave me an amber necklace. I tried to swallow
as many as I could.
When the forensics nurse inspected me, she couldn’t
see the tenderness he showed me after. My walk home
squirmed sore with night. I passed the earthworms
displaced to sidewalk, their bodies apostrophed
in the sun. I did not anticipate a grief
so small, my noun of a prayer, Eat dirt to make dirt.
Took a man’s hand as he led me to cave. So long
as I breathed, I could huff violets in his dank, practice
earth’s gasp. Mother lifts daughter, daughter casts
look at camera, a killer, a stick in the mud. I hold
my own hand. When the forensic nurse inspected
me, I described the house, historic blue. Asked me
to push my hips down. Little crescent moons
where his nails stabbed into me. She gave me
the word abrasion so gently I offered consent. Blue
as the moon when I sighed wait, blue as the no of my
throat. Abrasion, possibly extended form of red.
Harm results in a starry night too, many galaxies
scraped under the nail of a heavenly body. Ah my
second earth, its wounds hardened into swallowed
prophylaxis, an injection pooling between muscle
and skin. A woke seed. Deadarmed anti-moons
aggregated. A storm can travel seeds up to 30 miles
away. They dust on the sidewalks like lost data.
He did not intend Did not. Bloody speculum
a telescope searching the angry night sky for proof.