Remember me, you said,
engraving your image onto my skin.
You taught me to carve myself
into knives, to sharpen my edges
against the ones I love.Remember me, you said,
crawling into my belly like a stone.
You rolled up behind my eyes
so I see your face reflected
in the faces of the ones I love.Remember me.
I will cut a cavern into myself.
I will slice you out, out.
I will take this stone of you
and carve it to mark your grave.Remember me.
I will carve myself like ivory.
I will rub my edges smooth
against the ones I love.
I will see their faces clear.Beware, daughters;
take heed, sons.
Bury your fathers
in their own graves.
Dig them out of your bodies.
POEMS
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MORE OF SB's POEMS
@WATERMARK |A Poet's Notebook
- Disclaimer
Please do not assume that I am the speaker/ subject of my poems.
In these times of creative nonfiction and fictionalized memoirs, I think of the poem itself as true fiction: it is most likely not factual, but it must be true.
It is likely to be -- it is best if it is -- a truth I did not know before I wrote, and may not understand even then.
A poem is my way of discovering (dis-covering) what I feel; sometimes, what I think -- but it is not necessarily biographical.
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