Emaciation by Trisha De GraciaThere is nothing in this place.
The joy of loss and then renewal-
missing. The healing,
The sweetness is pouring
and both of my hands cannot stop
its waste on this concrete.
Nothing to take it away
nothing there for my veins to siphon
to suck or to drain from the needlework
there is no bottle to push
myself through the thick neck of:
nothing to drag from,
no smoke from my fingertips.
Nothing.
Grey and disintegrate parts of a person
in fragments below my own sea level-
pieces of him, perhaps them
on my skin like fat colonies
vying for space on the hills of this body,
competing for land
and political reign.
The emptiness swells and consumes
like the sunken appearance
of a starving girl's eyes
(as she stares at the corners of bones
at her wrists, at her thighs)
and cries from them all
of her wrongest of reasons. 02/03/2006 Posted on 02/04/2006 Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia
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