The Body Poem Project: The Messy Details of a Life

The Messy Details of a Life

Such is my life that in the year 2020, yesterday, I lifted heavy cow patties.

This morning, I moved to a different place.

Sitting at the kitchen table on a bar stool. Fully dressed. My feet dangling.

The second toe on my right foot feels numb. The blood hangs down my calves.

My full thighs pressed into corduroy pants.

My bloated stomach reminds me, “Your brain is here, too.”

I feel pickled: I drank half a bottle of wine last night.

This morning, a new psoriasis plaque appeared on my forearm.

My gut awake, trembles, like brainy worms.

I am drinking coffee with a film of rotting grapes upon my tongue.

Last night’s acid and this morning’s burning in my stomach.

Chest still. A full breath is still possible.

Blobs of fat spill over the sides of my hips.

Loose breasts hang in the air. Tense shoulders hunched over them.

Nostrils clear. Scalp itchy. Breath clear. Lips chapped. Hands crunchy.

I shout, “Hey there, body! Hey!”

Thoughts proceed from the belly. Not just the head.

I have moved inside and now I live there.

Here.

Comments

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Shel Graves' Sensorium

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