“The working definition for completion here is excavation. Opening, rather than static closure, aeration. I dig the grave of sentiments yet unearthed in these sparse words and present them as fresh grief. Death makes for a fertile ground, microorganisms transmuting stale language. Where do my words start, and Davis’ end? The boundaries are porous, amorphous. To complete, extend the process of decay, I render my resonances with her words into a perceived subtext, condensation. I let them come to the surface for air, coverless.”
~ ~ ~
Even cities come and
a settling place, still, distill
go. In the end, my sister
stillborn
rolls herself up like a
cigarette, half-burnt
sleeping mat, takes
displaces, acetone cleans
herself elsewhere. This
plastic wool swathing
is not a business plan,
financial, an exchange of incoherent extensions
it is only a woman
half-formed, a loud cry