ON THE NATURE OF FLESH (AND THE FLESH OF NATURE) is a youthful mix of extended metaphor, low humour, rambles about nature, society, capitalism, queer politics and anything else that the poet feels at least mildly strong about.
🌱
#1 in lgbtpoetry
#...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I woke up as Isaac. I spent the morning tending sheep. I did not know how to call them home Or where home is. The dog did my job for me. Isaac's life is lonely but for him. They work together with a friendship that doesn't need words. At midday I trekked a little through a field I wasn't certain was mine. I traced the palm--line of the countryside And fished in the stream that cuts into its grassy flesh. In the evening I cooked the fish over an open fire I didn't know not to do it indoors (for the smell) I did not know Isaac does not like the taste. I wish I could stay a few hours more.
I woke up as Lina. Lina sleeps in, but I rose with the dawn and stole the secret pink of the sky that is usually hidden to her. Lina is busy, but I am lazy. I pour myself like hot molten metal over her precious minutes covering them with my silver. She will be left with a hollow cast of them in the morning. Lina locks a part of herself down by the park a couple of streets away A square of green, framed by high-rises. I pick it open, curious. I feed the ducks, like she does Not understanding why she sits there But taking perverse comfort in the fact that for this brief moment My shadow is Lina's And I fit there too.
I woke up as Rahim. I do not like to wake as him. My voice is deep my chest is broad I feel like I am rattling around inside it. Rahim's eyes are too fast-flitting for me I feel heady, close to vertigo. My limbs are stretched and like a giant's Though a fraction of Atlas' weight and I would surely crumble. Rahim's life is too big too much too loud. My bird chirrup sounds in the hollow of his throat Every time I try that thunder-laugh of his Like a bell that will not ring when it's called. It is too much. I hope I wake as someone else tomorrow.
I woke up as Me. These are the worst mornings. I lie in bed for a while Wondering if it would make a difference to pretend That I was Isaac, or Lina Or even Rahim. But today my limbs are my own And I must carry them Both as a burden and as an offering. They are heavy as lead But I made a promise to trace A life with them to the people Who know when I'm Me again.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
