Prairie
Recalcitrance (meditation on the platitude, “We can always rebuild another
home, we can’t rebuild another…”)
You
can’t
genetically replicate the second person pronoun
that is your persona, your grace.
Can’t reconstruct the lumber of your anatomy
Midwest marrow, hinge barrel shoulder
Can’t replant the Ceramic tiling of your
fingerprints
Sheet paneling forehead
Standard
carpeting of your tongue.
We can
always rebuild another domicile, we can’t rebuild
The Interior plaster of your forearms
The cradle of
your ribcage
Joist of your
anatomy
spindle of your inner thighs.
We can splatter chemical aggregates
Into a concrete moat, we can’t
Shingle blinks into your eyelashes
Drywall the berm of your kneecaps
Splice casings into the winch of your smile.
We can frame more photographs, erect
A garage to house cardboard boxes
Fraught with Christmas lights and fishing poles.
We can build a closet with question mark hangers.
Furbish a living room with upholstery, linen scrim.
We can always rebuild another Thirty year mortgage
Shoeboxes
drained with coupons and property taxes.
We can’t rebuild the chalk masonry of your mandible
Secret ridges of your scapula
The Mortise and tenon of your hips, can’t
Re-Plaster the fist of your kidneys
Wainscot the tongue and groove of your cheekbones
Re-wire the Circuit breaker of your aortic
pulse.
We can rebuild subdivisions
out of topiary and Tupperware.
We can’t thread the conductors of your chromosomes
Fit the P-trap
occluded behind the button of your naval
Insulate the thermal attic of your dreams.
We can always rebuild another house, we
Can’t rebuild the helplessness you felt
That moment when the gnawing overhead
Skirl, used
coffee filter funnel cloud
Splintered molecules of dirt
Into a gushing swallow, garage door elbows
Leaving you everything
The cupboard of your eyes.
1 comment:
..for Phoebe, Ed and Valena...
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