Almost Like Feathers 

firecracker ligaments
tearing apart 
the knees of flames 
they run away to the sounds
of men asking for
their shoulders to return
heavy with wings
dead men perching wherever they can 
& telling stories of the bodies
they had once known-- the muscle 
& the tendons
they remember the smallest movements
of an elbow opening & closing
of fingers wrapping around 
the neck of a weed in the yard
i am the boy without a body
who asks them to talk more
who promises them i will die without all the details 
tell me exactly where the dungeons
plucked you till you were nothing but bird-- 
yes i want to see the pieces:
the lesions & the bones
without me even telling it to
my body lays down & begs 
to be stretched tall 
to be pulled until it becomes
a sapling or a heron 
i perch with the men while they 
show me their torn cartilage
they talk in the language of sharks
carry their teeth in a leather pouches
in the bottom of the castle
there is always room for a scream
to be eaten by stone 
i don't watch what the rack does
the knots at the hands & the ankles 
the assistants hoisting the body in
i say to the other men
i am the boy without a body
so what happens doesn't concern me
i can watch 
but i can't the ropes are tied tighter 
& the body wants to get out 
wants to be nothing but feathers 
when i am in pain i often just
think of the image of someone letting go
a whole bag of feathers
from the top of a castle turret--
all different colored feathers
mostly blotchy
i nestle my not-body somewhere 
in their drifting down to the dirt
i am laying down in the dirt 
& letting the feathers fall over my face 
a burial 
the body wanted the stretching 
it needed it
the body told me so 
the body took me down here where
light covers its eyes with its hands
where all the world of other men
stare on & perch counting their talons
i emerge taller 
& i get up 
i tie myself 
in bows-- no just my body ties in bows-- 
my self is somewhere else
spinning & taking my time coming down 
to the soil again
heaven must be our brief encounters 
with flight
i stare at my body with
ligaments torn-- it knows 
the gun powder in joints 
& i tell it to sleep now while 
i walk on the kingdom 
asleep it turns into a pile of lace
which embarrasses in front of 
the dead men 
all of which have their bodies
as lumps of lead or iron or
even gold
i throw the lace from the top
of the highest turret 
& thank god it does drop
almost like feathers