36 days
less than 36 days since we haven’t talked to each other.
by less
than 360 degrees can the body rotate still.
and, there –
when we no longer know.
I had before my eyes the heavy skin.
it had uncovered itself thoroughly,
like some sort of shock-proof wood.
it had developed a sheen and enamel.
it had sunk deep into the earth
since the earth patch I’m standing on
has the hue of a man’s flesh
since my skin’s ever whiter
do not wake up. a man’s body is attaining perfection.
green wood turns to black wood,
the texture gets rougher.
I’d stir my hands and they’d uncover themselves
I’d press them till neither the blood nor the lymph.
then, after a lengthy detour from my own body,
they’d fill up my tissues, they’d pile up,
no induration, nor rubber wood,
but soft wood we can keep banging on.
you tell me take care what you dream.
since the earth patch I am standing on
has the hue of a man’s flesh
since my skin’s ever whiter.