- Margaret Devadason
“I received not one but four poetic drafts from Jack Xi, each written in response to the prompt, ‘Look in the mirror. How do you see yourself? Write a self-portrait.’ Each draft offered a different take on the notion of the self as monstrous. These were accompanied by notes on his poetic process, as well as suggestions for approach, one of which read simply: ‘ignore my ideas and do whatever you want.’ This was the advice I ultimately took. Reconstruction, and the creation of a ‘finished’ product, was never the main goal. Instead, I present to you a collection of dissected organs lined up for your pleasure, complemented by what I imagined to be congruent. Currently composed of six sections, ‘The Spare Parts Cycle’ has room for the addition of more poems—or the further decomposition of its own parts. While it can be read as a whole, individual sections could well be considered in isolation, and its current form makes no claims of finality.
~ ~ ~
The Spare Parts Cycle
i. cold cut rainbow
red
everyone needs blood, some
raw meat less pale than you,
in powdered iron tablets or
another easily digested form.
orange
You awoke warm, to a room aglow.
The camera was focused on the dawn.
You were not on fire; in fact, nothing was.
You sat there alone, and nothing changed.
yellow
love is
sunlight is
measured is
always spilling
over in constellations on the sheets.
green
behind a palm-shaded wall,
that low grove of trees.
blue
is a window to the sky
is a cloud sleepless on the wrong end of a cold front
is mulling over old bluster
is drowning the way rain was caught in lakes
indigoviolet
the ashy men holding hands
the puckering pink of
the frozen meats
the colour undisplayable
the colour untrue
the colour that speaks no name
the colour we cannot but name
ii. copulatives
am: before noon, but after midnight; the self, present and tense.
who I am
(who) am (I)
who I am
(who) am (I)
i (am?) remains
is: this thing working?; the third person, indicatively singular.
the mirror is a bowl
the soul is something
a thought is tough
mist is a problem
this is not a problem
levitation is too slow
sunlight is not fast
love is sunlight
sunlight is measured
love is unmeasured
store bought is fine
love is denied
is denied
is denied (377 times)
a flutter of bats in a jacket is worth moral consideration
no video is recording
the phone is an undiscovered grave
he ’s always drawing someone’s blood
he (is) always drawing someone’s blood
it, there: the subject as empty, artificial; the pronoun pleonastic, expletive.
It ’s not flight
It (is) not flight
There is a vampire
There is a vampire
There is a new vampire
There is a ghost
There is a ghost
There is a vampire
There is a ghost
There are two housewives
It was a persistent drift
It was turning over
It was neverending
time: the seventh and the flattened third; indefinite and continued progress
Dents were your fault
Dents were not your fault
Dents were sometimes teeth
She wo n’t be able
She (will) (not) be able
(We) (will) (not be)
(able)
iii. (dis)simile
as if you were sharp again
(un)like a whetstone turning itself
over in your mouth until your bones
had ground themselves to fine points
as if you (were not) dead again
like an iphone hanging glossy
amongst the hell money, readier
to burn than your friends found comfortable
as if you felt like you could (not)
drift off into nothingness again
the air at your feet at your back
at your half-open mouth with its teeth
as if you felt like a staking
was called for as if you were
(un)called for as if you knew
what was as stake as if you
knew what it meant to feel.
iv. locatives
above·the·bed he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
against·the·night he held your skin and you thought that meant he saw through you.
alongside·a·trolley he held your hands and you thought that meant you’d lost him.
atop·a·reservoir he held you and you thought that meant he’d run dry.
before·a·palm-shaded·wall he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
before·the·earth he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
behind·a·smartphone·camera he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
behind·your·parent’s·tail-lights he held your skin and you thought that meant it was legal.
behind·that·low·grove·of·trees he held your hands and you thought that meant it was natural.
behind·the·shade·of·a·coffee·shop he held you and you thought that meant he’d consume you.
between·the·curtains he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
by·the·freezer he held your skin and you thought that meant he was warm.
floating·off he held your hands and you thought that meant you would fly too.
floating·off he held your hands though you couldn’t fly and you thought that meant he loved you.
in·front·of·a·mirror he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
in·a·jacket he held your hands and you thought that meant it was healthy.
in·flight he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
in·a·mirror he held your hands and you thought that meant he saw you.
in·its·frame his eyes caught your hands and you thought that meant he could see you.
in·its·still·chill his eyes caught your skin and you thought that meant he could hold you.
in·lakes he held your hands and you thought your inability to swim was romantic.
in·mid-air he held your hands and you thought your inability to fly was romantic.
in·the·dark he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
in·the·way he held your hands you thought he meant he loved you.
in·their·phones your parents saw your hands and you thought that meant they approved.
in·your·face your parents said nothing about your skin and you thought you were intact.
into·a·milo·dinosaur you placed your sorrows and their flotation made you think yourself afloat.
into·shapes you placed your skin and its resilience made you think yourself tough.
into·nothing you placed your hands and you thought that meant you loved him.
on·a·bathroom·floor he held your hands and you thought that meant he still loved you.
on·your·throat he held your skin and you thought that meant you could still breathe.
on·the·sheets he held your hands and you thought that meant he would still love you.
on·the·dawn he held your skin and you thought that meant you were still there.
on·your·limbs he left his handprints and you thought that meant he loved you.
on·your·shadow he left his handprints and you thought that meant you loved him.
over·old·bluster he held your hands and you thought that meant he was sincere.
over·the·blankets he held your skin and you thought that meant he was sensitive.
over·the·footage he held your hands and you thought that meant he would stop.
over·the·seams he held your skin and you thought that meant you were safe.
through·each·shaded·day you walked with him and you thought that meant you would last.
through·the·cloth·of·a·cloud you walked with him and you thought that meant you weren’t alone.
at·the·abattoir he held your hands and you thought that meant he loved you.
v. spared parts
if the jugular vein is to be seized today
if the all-night disco is the apocalypse
going cold
as promised
if I am worth something this way
(the way I always have been)
if the mirror doesn’t make me flinch
and held in there
I
do not
flinch
and held in there I find trapped
an echo
no not now not now not today
vi. conditional clauses
if the mirror is a bowl for the soul
if the soul is something like saliva
if everyone else can spit God from
between their shining teeth
if your teeth are in your way again
if there is no way to overcome teeth
if my teeth scrape against your skin
just the way he used to like it
if I look in the mirror and see nothing
if I look in the mirror and see myself
if I don’t look in the mirror anymore
telling myself it will be empty
if these eyes are the opening window
if this breeze hails the next monsoon
if that frangipani tree is only a tree and
no one is wearing her perfume
(if a boy in the skin of a girl sits there)
(if his eyes open to the falling leaves)
(if a nonhuman in the skin of a human
sits there with him and smiles)
if I called my lovers over the threshold
if I called my lovers over telephone wire
if I called them lovers and they believed
I had a heart and it could beat
if love is you looking through windows
if love is you spitting goldenrod spit
if love is you covering the mirror so
as to shield the shining sun
(if a boy molts on the bathroom floor)
(if the boy counts every shred of skin)
(if the boy denies it three times and
never once hears a rooster)
if I have no blood to feel running cold
if I have no heart to feel icing over
if I have no reflection to see growing
older than those I left behind
if there are too many stars to count
if there is only wide, illiberal sky
if there is nothing written up there
you consider worth reading
(if a boy cracks his own ribs apart)
(if he lies in the dark and counts)
(if he watches his own open heart
in someone else’s hands)
if she asked me if I had finished
if she herself had no plans to finish
if all she felt was his teeth and not
my thirstfilled open mouth
if the stakes are too high this time
if my parents sharpen their stakes
if they never put away their blessed
medallions, my old medals
if I say the word love enough times
if I say the mirror won’t be empty
if I say the window is open and don’t
count the closed doorways
if it was really an accident this time
if they never needed that exorcist
if there’s no body to find because
I’m still here, goddammit
if there is room for me on this earth
if there is room for me in this body
if there is room where my heart is
for things that hearts hold
if my ribs stay intact just this once
if I am no longer holding their cage
if I look in the mirror and no longer
flinch at what looks back
(if a boy puts on the skin of a poet)
(if a boy puts on another poet’s skin)
(if a boy puts down a condition and
then another and another and
another and an other)
