AFTERIMAGE
if the body is unlit
I come for myself in the dark
when the night fields dare to flower
when I send for you
I crawl on my belly through the weeds
you found me, shaking
or else I drag myself through
among all my borrowed parts
the groves where nothing has grown
when I send for the dogs
I tread lightly in this dream of black water
with enough luck my hands will
creep by the awful light of the stars
like the whistle of the axe
through the doors I’ve built with their bodies
creep by the awful light of the stars
from the voices that cry out
blanched with atrophy
the primordial reflection
or else I drag myself through
the trick is to trick them into thinking there is a trick
the primordial reflection
with enough luck my hands will
of bark and berry, blush and bone
have begun to forget these human sounds
where the dead carry the dead on their backs
like the whistle of the axe
the trick is to trick them into thinking there is a trick
when I send for the dogs
the groves where nothing has grown
when I send for you
I crawl on my belly through the weeds
her body jerks like a pinned wing
where my loss lives as
where my loss lives as
the meridian of hoofprints
any withered thing
when the night fields dare to flower
blanched with atrophy
within an unseemly wood
where the dead carry the dead on their backs
and knowing this,
the meridian of hoofprints
have begun to forget these human sounds
hatching unbidden in the heart of her
in the dream where I climb a red ladder
among all my borrowed parts
the trick is thinking there is a trick
of bark and berry, blush and bone
I stuff my fist into my mouth and
the trick is thinking there is a trick
her body jerks like a pinned wing
and knowing this,
any withered thing
I found in you an answering darkness
hatching unbidden in the heart of her
you found me, shaking
from the voices that cry out
by the skin of my teeth, or yours, and
through the doors I’ve built with their bodies
within an unseemly wood
by the skin of my teeth, or yours, and
I understood your staunch refusal of loss
I found in you an answering darkness
in the dream where I climb a red ladder
I understand your staunch refusal of loss
I stuff my fist inside my mouth and
I tread lightly in this dream of black water
I come for myself in the dark
if the body is unlit
Shannon Hozinec lives in Pittsburgh, PA. Other recent work of hers can be found in THRUSH, Deluge, The Hunger, Palette Poetry, and elsewhere.
