Memory is coded into skin: bits of it
under fingernails, ground into gum,
polished along the route of the thigh,
hanging round ankles, bouncing on the buttock.
One blink and it comes forward, free
as Houdini, opening the door of that wine cellar
where fruit, bitter and clean, comes hurtling out
of the bottle of mind fluid, wet as you and me.
I'd rather drown than be this thirsty.
retro napowrimo #3
She had a round tattoo
on the fleshy webbing
between thumb and index.
She named it Chaos,
claimed a Chinese glyph
bode complex meaning.
retro napowrimo #4