I could disassemble myself,
Placing my digits in a line of increasing size on a
Metal table,
Measuring by the millimeter and
Inspecting each incision.

I could stand in the path of the
West wind,
Watching my skin come apart
Atom by atom and
Be scattered on the breeze like the
Ashes of so many men.

They could stretch out their hands and
Shake out their hair and
March between mountains,
Conquering every enemy that
Blocks our many paths.

They could become dust motes,
Finding a vivid green eye to irritate or
An antique fur coat to settle in and
Multiply into an army of myself,
Surveying the surface of the world.

I would watch them stamp and tumble and
Fall into the cracks in the ground,
Scraped into the countryside by our
Pens seeking a certain truth.

They would become cramped in those cracks,
Fighting for sunlight and air that's
Stained with the smell of cheap sugar icing and
Sweat from the brow of a child
Playing tag.

Frumious, multitudinous and speedy,
My toes tickle each other as they
Twitch to the beat of my seedy
Skin's rhythm. They itch the tired,
Flimsy freckles into grimacing
Their way to the mistaken pyre
Where toes are simply fingers that
Prefer soil to flesh.

There I am, I think!
           With finely worn shoes and
           The exact amount of wrinkles in my
                         Knuckles cast in bronze.
Just Look! at the way the streetlights and
           The trees conspire to sketch feathers on my
           Jawbone, as majestically angular as the
                         Blocks I stand on.
Try to Believe! how many colors there are in the
           Tear rolling down that perfect hairline, as
                         Substantial as a granite butterfly.

While her hard feet roughen the sidewalk and
Scratch into the ground, looking for the
Warmth she's learned is beneath.

          While the air she surrounds gets caught on her ribs, and
           The wind in her lungs shakes the aged leaves down to the
           Bench that tries its best to cradle her through the night.

But Look! there's never been a sun as bright as the
           Glow that wisp of hair kisses to that brow.
           Such a glow I've never seen,
                          I'm sure.

I didn't feel the hit but
I can feel the bruises

Numb and noxious and nothing
touched me while I looked sideways
laying down breathing heavily trying to

Creep back to the corner to crouch down amid
the thunder of the blackblueberry and the asundered boat
floating on my horizon and anchoring itself to an eyelash

Before it fell to planks and sheets
Before it sunk beneath the black and the blue

always steady ever ready to slice the levee
and stall the carriage so it can no longer
cut down into the spiral jetty
where the salt water spills
and the thunder trills
to the simple ****** of eyes blinking

I have an embroidered leaf on my palm.

The blood stained the thread while the needle
passed through my skin, but as it tugged and traced

I smiled because I knew that autumn had come.