2001-05-08 - 11:43 a.m. - II. Exhuming the dead
II. Exhuming the dead--
To be devoured
by a tree, first
you need ro reject everything
you have ever believed,
or maybe the tree comes
first. Ariel forgot
the painted scene- ice
frozen on skin, a living tomb
of dead water molecules - she
had folded up and
placed in her pocket. And with
a split lip and blackeye,
she cries: "this is
my point of exit."
--
"does anybody here rememberVera Lynn?"
"I wish I did, i wish i could help you."
"she must be on fire. im so afraid of
the brightness that consumes all things
dying."
"Breathe. Give me your hand and don't
go ino the light."
"I'm afraid of the light."
"As well you should be." It is the light
that burns our eyes and makes us forget
who we are, lulling
us into submission with static
and cycles, broken
promises and half smiles.
This ground is sacred, so if
you're needing inspiration,
you need to know
--
you are half way there. Somebody
moved the graveyard under
your house, and suddenly
we are reminded of saturdays
10 years gone, when wewould comb the neighborhood park for death
and avoid the clamp of leeches
on our groins, we were such fools
and kings. Like yesterday, Jake
forgot his cigarette
burning in his ashtray
and no one reminded him to
take a hit to save
his soul, and now he turns ash
and the sum of all his parts dissolves
into the oxygen we breathe
leaving an empty legacy of nothing
more than a butt for angry women
with red, red lipstick to stub
into plastic or crush under foot.
--
"Is there anybody out there?"
"No, this house is clean," amd the dead
erupt from the earth and
break Ariel's --remember her?-- wrists
with forced handshakes and readings
of her pulse. 90 beats per minute,
why so nervous, sister? it's only death.
She remembers the man with
eyes that were once pearls, hiw words:
"Would you like
to learn to fly."
She cries, scraping trenches in the mud
as she is drug down, down,
down, afraid to scream for help, of
filling her perscribed role, helpless
and weak. down, down, down...
"would you like
to see me try."
--
And now the world is a monster
eating my eyes from the whites,
insde,
"why are you running away"
Remember her.
--
Remember her?
she won't let us forget.
--
Last year Jake and I would go
down tot he river and wash
our feet, talking of women
and the future, creating the history
that we so eloquently discussed tonight,
our eyes melting into pools
of nostalgia in which we dissolve
placebos and real pills, and choke
ont he solution, our throats constricted.
--
As a baby i was bitten,
some foreign spider with
poison for blood. My body swelled
as my veins betrayed me, carrying
and depositing death throughout
my fragile young body. Father
had to slit my throat
--
so that i could breathe.
--
and jake would throw his
spent cigarettes into the water
to sizzle and expand
absorbing the sickeningly
dead water, decomposed
to dishwater and bleeding amonia.
I wish i could drink but
--
i had to much to drink and refused
the entire time to think of you.
"I guess that's all i needed."
�
�
