On the Elements of Anatomy
originally appeared in No, Dear
In medical theory, bones
fissure into paperclips. But I know
human abdomens breathe like frogs
under the paper hands of hospitals. Everything ruptures
in a country I cannot name.
Horses dissolve into dandelions.
Believe in me, Bellevue, and render your dead
as birds. I exchange prayers for talons in my cavalcades
of lungs. Diagnostics
torn off sparrow-flutter.
Anything going into the sea
comes out unrecognizable.
Deliver me, light or stone-laden,
to the ghost of your God.
In both hemispheres of the body, pigment
runs toward a surface of dirt, grapes become rice.
One out of ten children
calls the wrong man father.
If gauze covered the ocean floor, what skeletons would grow.