Читать книгу Body of Render - Felicia Zamora - Страница 13

When we think of sticks, do we think tree; oh bramble of me; what part of us, scatters wind, becomes home to something other; how your skinny bones in drape, mulberry limbs; oh slats of light, ribs of; & dusk always resides in chest, in fissures between lobes where all of us lie temporal & disoriented, oh this piece of; suture back; yes a question, no no an answer; how skeletal the bark of us, word & flesh; I left me for you propped against the girth of trunk; how we shed ourselves over & over: snake bundled in snake skin; once, yes, once we were one.