With the Bodies

November 6, 2007

With the bodies
of my discarded pages

I could cut a
school of slanting fish

I could lift
a flock white bone of bird,

I could rain
crumpled moons,

watch them sink.

With the bodies
of my discarded pages

I could collate
a book of ‘the’

the letter ‘a’ the word
‘and’. I could sift

a lexicon of new starts
slip them over lines of grey strung chords

With the bodies
of my discarded pages

I could tear out lines
like babies’ hearts.

I could crush
their paper weights,

I could tip
their tangled sighs and darts,

their breathy throats
into the waste

disposal of my building.
I could let them fly

the long way down.
If I could bear

to see their faces.