the disassembly of my body by the flies
& an apology to the moon.

i walk out on the wharf
alone tonight-- dangle my feet out
over the water with the faces of the
mermaids floating just below
the surface-- their eyes
glossy, luminescent, & cat-like--
i want to let them pull me 
down where it's quiet
but i'm here to be disassembled--
i want to give something to
the body of the land who
has given me so much--
it's not really a wharf--
it's the gravel road behind my 
house in Kutztown where
the field turns soybeans & corn
& wheat & dirt 
& watermelon carcass devoured
by the foxes--
it's not really a gravel 
road it's arched back of
the graveyard hill-- the one
with the dying tree who everyone
knows keeps the moon hung in
the sky--
this is where i read my
apology--
i'll start off with the moon--
for all the times i didn't
stop to notice you were
fading & 
was too shy to 
open my mouth wide with
you when you were brave enough 
to imitate the sun--
for all the times i was too
busy untangling 
constellations-- for the times
i ate you down to 
the rind & spit your seeds
on the gravel road--
i'm looking to be taken 
apart here-- because i want
to stop--
i want to rest with
the pieces of myself spread so 
thin that only the 
moon will recognize me--
that's why i made a boardwalk 
from the steps out my back door--
we all go back to the ocean at some point--
in stone harbor one morning
i was attacked a by a thick swarm of
gnats-- writhing bodies 
kamikazed at my skin--
i ran because i wasn't ready--
i was too scared of what it
would be like to let
the flies redistribute my body
but now i trust them--
i'll set and wait for them to come
with the sun--
i'm hoping they will take off
me arms to incorporate them
into the limbs of the dead tree
on the hill-- take my freckles
& turn them inside out to make new
stars--
open my mouth wide, wide, wide
as the moon--
oh i'm sorry i haven't been
watching you--
i know you follow me--
push clouds aside-- peer
in through the car window
in the back seat of my mother's blue station
wagon--
take some of my hair & 
use it as a streak
of cloud so i can climb tall enough
to kiss her face--
thank her for all the times
when she took shifts 
staying up bright & full
through dark to keep me company--
i hear the flies buzzing a distance off--
mouths suckling the empty air
in desperation--
it's their job to scatter us--
teach us what it's like
to feel ourselves
in so many different parts--