First Aid (autumn 30)

First Aid (autumn 30)


In pain there is easily a thousand words
all manners and injury 

agency shaking 
around a ring a rosy
dove pintails on the tile and 

her heart sung under my hands 
altering the the existing wood 

surrounding the
debris our scars face each other
the ribs of  the new 

 


***

But how now can we talk of late winter? 

TFW: I fell in in love with the rain 

and it pinned me to the bed

 




***



Every wound ever suffered remains within my eye
the focus 

how does it feel to be injured when
decay abounds even in the  seemingly defect-free

her feathers splayed  out on the bathroom floor
Disc cuts close
hands  survive 

Wound response a reaction 
process of scar 
seal and close

self of the world speeds speeds upward in front of  



***

Can we overcome the past?

is it resistance then growing

Facing scars hands moving words in variability

History simple and grown over

and it’s not a perfect system and how can I save the first

of the new tribe perched on the kitchen cabinet

 ***

Spinning off the page

I breathe into sentences to make

the fracture in the story

Here’s an iteration between the now and then now

Here’s  fist shaped pain located in the shoulder

a small sharp sun  where the wing joins

 ***

The original choices were gold and salt

Autumn crocus or hands plunged into a beehive

How we all believed in

pyramids and jaundice

thundergods painted copper

how we believed the doves flying out

 chimeras dappled in sulfur and adrenalin

the cures in the us mail

  

 ***

Mostly I want less thought and sorrow  and more impeccable azure I want

Boundaries as

a practice or

the distraction in paths

beds and bridges 

wetblown and doubled

To root here in exile under

the hard blue sky

my ragged and desperate flutter