Flesh

I want to flesh you out
Wrap your bones in skin
Inflate your crevasses, the valleys between your ribs
With my breath
I want to know more than your angles
More than your sharpness
More than the sad long walk of your bones
But the more I touch
The more I leave
Knowing only myself

Catching Up

It’s been too hot to run around outside lately and so I’ve take to going to aquafit at the local pool. It’s me and the old Chinese and Italian ladies, who use this more as an excuse to catch up on the local gossip than to exercise. They wave their arms and legs half-heartedly as they gab over the din of the water echoing off the concrete. “Feet together, apart” the instructor chirps as they tell each other of grand children and surgeries, minor injustices and household appliances. I can’t help but wonder what it must be like to feel that most of life is behind you, much of it even forgotten. Is there immense relief in knowing that most of the up hill battles have been fought, most trepidation just a memory, that so very little of what is left is uncertain? Or, is there sadness at knowing there is so little up ahead, that the first are a few and far between, that there is little hope left of leading a different life? And what of me, here, surrounded by grey, wrinkled heads, bobbing as they catch up on the gossip?

The Weight of Unhappiness

How much does unhappiness weigh?

Sometimes it is a minus weight
That devours your flesh
Leaving only skin and bones
Leaving only a shadow of your former self
The place where light refuses to touch

Sometimes it is the weight of an anchor
A house, a truck
Pinning you to your bed
Dragging you under as you struggle
Upward

And sometimes, it weighs nothing more than a seed
Ready to sprout

Prosthetic Heart

After a while you loved her
Like you would a limb
Her absence was keenly felt
Not because this limb was any better than any other
But because it was yours
And now it was gone