Now my fingernails blossom
black- black as pond-jewels, black as
beetles- now my brain attempts to fool me (worn-down by a voice like trees,
whisper-burning, pages turning, the crick and crack of ice)
- now the moon herself seems dusty, now the world is
sickened, stricken,
now I cannot rest. Now my eyes outgrow my
skull, and electric light burns silently like Grace, like winter's frosted leaves of knives,
now my skeleton caves me open like a treasure-chest and ribs grow through my lungs in mockery of
life, of breath,
don't go. Don't stay. I'm contagious. I'm contained.
Now light bleeds from the hollow of bone
when I turn my face. Now
molars click-clack pincer-like, dance-like, now my hands can't hold a gun
quite right, now I'm sullied, poisoned, dressed in white, my hair tangles in a
crown. Now
my feet are bare, my eyes won't close, hell's moonshine curls inside my
guts- and curls and coils-
you may go. I give you leave to go.
I give you leave to avert your eyes as I rot and lie and lie and lie-
half-alive. A quarter-sane,
the devil beneath my fingernails. I give you leave.
Pull up the blinds; I'm mad, not blind, not scared of stars or sky
or sky.
I give you leave. To go. To stay. If you must watch this crucifixion- if you must look me
in the face. It's only fitting. Only right. I decay from the inside, from the outside- from angel-teeth sunk in from birth, from love that eats us up, breaks our fingers, scrapes off our faces, gives us a thousand blind and living eyes- sullies and marks and loves and loves and loves us-
and loves us and defaces us-
each porcelain piece that falls away reveals a shaft of light.