poem for a journey
& right now I'm
pinned, quartered
like a medieval suicide at a crossroad,
trying to stretch myself
along every path at once
the stake in my heart prevents me
from choosing one:
if I tug it out there'll be a hole
severed arteries & red-raw edges
(people will peer
right through me for a dollar)
but removed
the splintery stake could steady me going uphill
in winter, against the wind playing its tin-whistle
inside my muscle & veins
when I'm lonely I'll bend
right over, put my ear against
the open mouth in my chest,
hear it whisper
like the ocean in a conch shell
seeds will plant themselves
in my flesh, roots curling
round bone & vital organs
green shoots emerging through skin,
flowers blooming
in my eyes & the palms of my hands
then come spring, birds
will nest inside me, their babies
bald, squawking,
hungry for life
-
Originally published as 'Untitled' in Voiceworks magazine, edition 68, autumn 2007. Express Media Publications.