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The Love of This World MAG
All the good in me unlaced I pull what I own across the floor,
books devoured to the spine, impressions the knees of my jeans
have made of kneeling, my ghosts of ghosts, the saint who is namesake.
I lay it out. A turtle can lay one hundred
thirty-seven eggs in the hollows of trash-filled beaches
and pray her young into the foam
and I know how she judges her almost-gone
with the shell’s first clean fracture, and how much she holds
when she owns nothing and watches it race away.
I line it up for you, lay it down, armfuls, fistfuls,
incalculable catalogues of rinsed fingerprints
released, as they are back-breaking, as this convex shell
is enough, as the body becomes the loudest resonating
home where I deadlock roomfuls of possessions,
where my valuables belong so unbearably to me
that they are not mine. And because I want to float
I lay them down, the swatches of fabric, the memories of places
I swore I had owned so wholly I felt them through to the relics,
laid down, the hopes I hold for the ones I’d kill to own
who swim between combs of aimless currents,
of whom I am no owner, of what I am no mother
I lay them out for you. And as the sea holds
each embryo to the memory of one
original shell, I am unforgivably enamored
with the ownership of all.
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 117 comments.
a verse so perfect
aspire anew-
a thought to ressurect
what joy, oh joy!
depth of verse to disect
I offer this to you:
a plea to continue,
for you, Muses have wept,
sweet drops of purity;
might you my offer accept,
though,
I would think it none a rarity,
if, as I suspect,
past precedent correct,
your verse's great clarity
resides beyond your shadow's throw
PS: check out my work if you could?
14 articles 0 photos 175 comments
Favorite Quote:
-Biting's excellent. It's like kissing only there's a winner."-Doctor Who, The Tardis
amazing.
I love the end- "and as the see holds each embryo to the memory of one original shell, I am unforgivably enamored with the ownership of all."