open? can
we really be
this naked
flesh
and bone
broken
and pressed
together?
and then
can we
be honest
and
without
shame?
this is
a man
without
guile
he said,
and then
pointed
to the
moment
the wound
was fresh
and heart
broken
i wandered
into a
desert
full of
searching
***
when the
time
was
complete
(a week,
40 days,
a year)
i awoke --
found that
someone
made a
poultice
and wrapped
it around me
-- a
cataplasmic cast
i found
myself
shadowed
beneath a
fig tree.
i reached
upwards
and emptied
each
branch,
filled my
mouth
with seeds,
made myself
a home
in the
earth.
covered the
scars
fingered in
the skin
drew in the
sand
new
figures.
