Seriously. Strange shit is happening to my body this winter. What does this mean? Do you know how many home remedies I know to cure (and I use that word loosely) eczema? Or dry, brittle nails? But how about toenails that suddenly go missing in the bath? Or what does that say about the water? I decided I needed to write something for it/about it and quickly too, before anything else falls off. (Sorry, it’s still rather–raw).

Annals of the body’s slow decay

1. My skin alters mistakenly
some caged thing tears–
raw hands peel me
in unprocessed patches.

2. Some older bird is dying to rise.

3.

4. Each handful of surface
textures, empty spaces
plumbed between the index
forefinger, little finger, muddled
patterns as someone else’s blue.

5. My feet fail to notice me.

6. Tonight, Mars is falling
redness, inhabits a side
my foot, the left
little toe, and another
small circling planet
marks the right foot.

7.

8.

9. A toenail, the smallest
wing hunches in preparation
soft pulses in sheep’s wool.
The long feathered wait
breathes its own
uncertain moment.

10. The setting is the mind
the right frame–
support that slips in flight
slides from the hold
of the toe, maliciously free.