His waiting has a history of its own.<\/p>\n
The rustled impatience of splintered stars<\/p>\n
holds out for no one and if he were thinking<\/p>\n
about cheating you couldn’t tell by his puckered<\/p>\n
forehead or from his glutinous voice, the new<\/p>\n
girl at work is too suggestive of youth, of<\/p>\n
the descending angles at the edge of shade.<\/p>\n
I spy on him by ear, my round limbs hunkered<\/p>\n
in bushes, all I can see from here are his<\/p>\n
uncertain toes, no words to hold my tongue.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Memories are autonomy,<\/p>\n
the acquisition of habits\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n
habits remember the contents<\/p>\n
of memory.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Memory belongs to a<\/p>\n
single thinking thing\u00c2\u00a0\u00c2\u00a0 thing.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Disorientation in time:<\/p>\n
the universe seems to stop<\/p>\n
when the illness begins,<\/p>\n
you will not be aware of<\/p>\n
having aged since.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The unavailability of memories<\/p>\n
is a failure, a death sentence,<\/p>\n
secrecy appears in everything,<\/p>\n
the hiddenness of a thought<\/p>\n
in the dark, happiness and a<\/p>\n
blank mind.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I contemplate the principles<\/p>\n
of visible things when my<\/p>\n
mother mistook a stone for<\/p>\n
a grape. She spit the stone<\/p>\n
and half a tooth on the ground<\/p>\n
and asked why the earth did not<\/p>\n
open to receive it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I look off to the left, roads are<\/p>\n
such a crude gouge, I speak<\/p>\n
to my mother, our winter walk<\/p>\n
is over, but the distance is too<\/p>\n
much, she cannot hear what I say,<\/p>\n
instead laughs at the crusted sky,<\/p>\n
lifts snow off the ground, presses<\/p>\n
it to her full face.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The descent begins, weather<\/p>\n
the star-eaten sky.<\/p>\n
I follow the trail of eyes;<\/p>\n
those who’ve come before me.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
This pulse, the fence line<\/p>\n
the owl dares not cross.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I follow the river down<\/p>\n
feel the bloom of heat,<\/p>\n
all the eyes freeze-framed.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I’ll eat the continents<\/p>\n
pull their meandering<\/p>\n
coasts in,<\/p>\n
pluck out the hang-nail acres.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Time-tracks the roots through<\/p>\n
boneyards, knows the shape<\/p>\n
of man.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I knew this was some slow<\/p>\n
beckoning dream death, you<\/p>\n
below, me collapsing like<\/p>\n
water into you. A small panicked<\/p>\n
happiness.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Findings<\/p>\n
Flourishing cells, unrelenting<\/p>\n
growth.<\/p>\n
Live red lips smacking<\/p>\n
a salty howl, calling to saints, but<\/p>\n
full bladder beckons.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Internal damages bind my organs,<\/p>\n
to feel near adherence to<\/p>\n
some bodily knowing.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She’s a bower bird,<\/p>\n
young, supposed to be pouring in bone,<\/p>\n
losing it instead.<\/p>\n
The most irreversible action.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Strip the muscled layers, grow smaller.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
She’s her own shelter, a sleeping plant.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
If You Were Thinking About Cheating His waiting has a history of its own. The rustled impatience of splintered stars holds out for no one and if he were thinking about cheating you couldn’t tell by his puckered forehead or from his glutinous voice, the new girl at work is too suggestive of youth, of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"parent":203,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"authorpoetry.php","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-211","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/211","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=211"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/211\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1020,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/211\/revisions\/1020"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mtls.ca\/issue11\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=211"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}