i want to unravel completely
with & without blood.
peeling the red skin from an apple.
hunks of heel off potato faces.
where a ball of yarn
spills its guts. i am confessing
i no longer want to be continous.
give me every punctuation.
i'll plant my fingers & wait
for them to grow into bonsai. my tongue
in a terrarium. what kind of
adhesive have you used to
barricade the doors of your self?
i take my father's guilt
& his father's guilt & slam
everything shut. a glass full
of gasoline. wooden afternoons.
splinters from running my hand
across my own arms. tell me i can
do nothing from now until
the sun puts the pot to boil.
i'm jealous of dead birds
& children with fenced in yards.
tracing my chest scars with a finger
i think, "i would plant a row of trees here."
but i refuse any kind of growth.
i'm always doing that. claiming
to be reborn before the funeral.
right now, i just want to see the machine
vivisected. little heart
like a strawberry. i want to go rotten.
want to bloom white lacy mold
from the palms of my hands.
let me be finally useless.
using a walking stick carved
from my grandmother's leg.
how i come from a family
of gravediggers by which i mean
we dig our own. work until
the day is liquid. holding
a drinking glass to catch what's left.
i don't know if i can though. i don't
know how to dismantle.
i think of uprooting weeds
& i'm not sure if i'm the weeds
or the roots or the breath
legs make when freed of dirt.
i'm sending my fruits off
to become planets. i'm drying out
in the sun. i'm holding seeds
in my hands.