Wednesday, December 06, 2006


I never told my mother

The first fall, a parted mouth,
liver-stained liquid draining
from the corner
of a dead woman’s face.

The churning in the gut
at the proximity
to the hateful sphere.

The way the body echoes mine,
distorted in a house of mirrors,
and then, so smug,
so smug;
we are not yet free of our dancing burden.

Chorus of transcriptions.
Legacy of dandelions
and dendrites,
from each to the other
hormones call,
unlucky in their perseverance of flight.

You’re next, says the agitated crab,
hungry for pulmonary enzymes.
On the delicious lick
of the fingers
when the mitochondria
are distracted.

My hipbone is not so distinct
from the tilt of a chimpanzee
and my closest living relative
no longer shares my chromosomes.
Distinctly, Y’s everywhere are shrinking,
the genes jumping to other chains.

Is this what it means to evolve?
To become parenthesis in a limbo of spiraling heavens —
this new cosmology claims my teeth.

Look, we bear the same
It took 37 years
for the C-section
to fade back
to smooth flesh —
Could I stretch like you? Yellow
and without marks.

I won’t say your name
to a grave.

I drag small planets along
a curb lined with
shaking cats.

Orion blazes
into a belt of fire.

The chasm
into which
I have dropped
my breath

with regret.

Take back the monitor
tick tocking into nothingness.

Come back, my hateful, ugly one.

Take into this night
my terrible cry.


earlywint said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Mendi O. said...

hi ms. soucouyant. so glad you are writing about these things -- a beautiful, painful, painful poem. love to you, m

Anonymous said...

Did you kno dat I knew u had a blog??>>I luv this piece but it makes my skin hurt.-Sly