| I would have liked then for someone to touch me So I could know the purpose of this hardship. Black-eyed and impassive as a canyon, From the hive of my mind, I looked at their faces As I moved between rows of espaliered pears. I only intended for someone to show Me, once, an affection like the sun Shows even the simplest bulb, entering what’s hidden. Let me show them instead the picture In a knife’s reflection, take down my hair Where the gravedigger kneels among new potatoes. Behind my teeth are headstones, and behind those Skeletons of cavemen, of dinosaurs, And under my skin: alphabets, alphabets In black ink, a legacy of histories tiny and alive As an ant army marching toward forever. Understand, please—I, too, have a splendid use, This world could not get rid of me if it wanted to. Copyright © 2016 by Monica Ferrell. Used with permission of the author. |
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