Masked in a White Stocking Thick Enough to Blind Her, She Leans Forward into a Wind Like a Boat’s Figurehead

09/05/14

We started with a stick propped up by a table. I listened to your drifting sheets. I
removed the linen closet. The black plastic keeps the weeds out. The smell of ferment
doesn’t bother me anymore.
The nightmares have stopped except for the blood glue walking away.
The clothesline was used to make green paper. The fireplace is the entrance to a
warm selfish box. The box seems to be inside itself.
No scars, but I would like to tell you about my body. I would like to scream, so
let’s talk. Let’s tongue the old roof with wet berries. Let’s hunger. Let’s enter the fireplace
and come back out.
We used your father to hold up the calendar because time was running out. We
thought this way we could plan for the future. We found one of the children’s fortresses.
The doll’s mouth had a stick in it. We thought about it and got cold. We dealt with it
symbolically and got warm.
We stepped through a door and we lost our way back.
Now you have a body beneath your fingers. If you touch me, I will still be there.
So will the others.
Someone like me who doesn’t say so is a lie.
This is who needs you. Not children. Not laundry. Not the scream.
The river we swam in yesterday is the ocean.
Now we have a different stick propped up by a different table.
Then your father decides to release the calendar and we have only a table propped
up with a stick as if it were the past.
Like an ocean inside the river that yesterday was the ocean which is leaking
propped up by the table, which is used for something inside the body of the river. Which
never needed any legs and lost its father too long ago to matter. There’s always an ocean
between which is used for something inside the body. This is who needs you. The box
seems to be inside itself.



Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.