Just because I know a whole lot of you personally? From The Feast of Flesh and Spirit by Ly de Angeles and Cerise Gollogly: RAZOR DAYS IT IS A PROCESS THAT IS TAKING YEARS, like butchering a mammoth on my kitchen bench, with the blunted and rusted cutthroat razor that a potential grandfather once stropped, the dismissal of affection, the branches of this living tree: You, for your casual Darlings that dissolve into weeks, then months, because you are distracted by your jazz or whatever, until I can turn my back on your empty how are you and place you in one of the plethora of canopic jars that I have within this edifice that I call me. Me, slipper satin and ornate brass astrolabes, tattooed ears, huge round tables lacquered in flawless Chinese red, lipsticks of every hue except plum—I despise the colour plum except on plums—theatre curtains in midnight blue hiding the pantomime of my childhood, and books that reach the lofty, glass-domed widows’ walk high above me, and you, those of you who haven’t fled or been stuffed within the jar. You, for the panic when I suggest I might need a room if things go weird. You, for over-thinking the past and casting me as the enemy while still professing love. The others, one by one. This is not about being perfect, no, it’s because I am tired of trying to be. You, for never laughing even though you smile. I understand your desperation but I am neither your psychiatrist nor your mother. Others hang from these gnarled boughs, fruit fresh to rotting and many more will fall. Initiating conversation one too many times. Life still has this woman’s name, and this woman’s mind and it is confounded by body language that says most things, stutters and pauses that say most else, and that undoneness that comes out of the mouth that tries to justify through distraction or remission as though I am blind or cattle. Few remain with bright plumage to my eyes. It’s not that I want to carve the beast or sever the limbs with the all-but-bladeless razor, I so desperately don’t. However. . . Rather than using it on my own throat, I will use it to sever the fruit from the limb and butcher the mammoth in my kitchen until I am soil.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Oct 2013 02:11:06 +0000
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