autoimmune

wesley denis

all things historical stay in my flesh toned

casket. where i move furniture

through empty rooms-

each glimmer the wink of a splinter

each splinter the brand of my kind.

my hand leaves five times

two. i awake and each finger

swollen in it's casing

calls Autoimmune! Arthritis! Multiple

Sclerosis!

in their fat backed piggy voices.

the silent pinpricks blood-let

( 0 was the man who began her

she added him over time )

here: how chaos theory

came to squall along the river-vein.

one fire for the free,

one fire for the caged:

one illuminates, one destroys.

i must make it with both.

now to the time moon clock

against my breast, or my lower intestine.

i am not afraid of these images.

i could have been a surgeon

or a pornographer.

( 0 was the man who carved her.

she whittled over time.)

maggie may ethridge

.