Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Portrait of The Artist As A Young Forest

Somehow I earn the name
“breadcrumbs”- this,
the first time I am
made object,

a map for Gretel;
A girl traces with her tongue
the freckled landmarks
sunscarred on my shoulder.

I, Hansel (unobjecting to the role)
in wearing this map cannot see it,
and wearing it I am the blind journey,
amnesia of destination and direction.

I and my body keep from each other
those halves of the route: I cannot read
through another’s eyes, my body stays mute.
I kiss her in kind, I am going nowhere.

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