Me at the Edge of My Skin (part 1 of 2)

Me at the Edge of My Skin

(part 1 of 2)

             Surrealism after Andre Breton

Me with the hair of twine cats claw

with the hair of a palm in a hurricane

hair of long pine and icicles

Me with a forehead of relaxed saran wrap

with a third eye asleep in wet dust

that blinks in open heat

Me with eyelashes, lines of black ink

drawn on the belly of an egg

and with brows of the felt skirt of a fat doll

ironed with an old scouring brush

Me with eyes that hold breath

With eyes that swallow old women and children

and boys who play basketball without the hoop

Me with a nose of a ballerina’s shoe

with the mouth of crushed berries

dripping from a clay bowl

a mouth of a torn envelope

With the mouth of a frozen Gumby

Me with the mind of a flattened nickel with no date

a gargoyle escaped from the Church of Notre Dame

a funnel filled with fresh icing

My mind the ring of Saturn

on which sits galaxies whispering electricity

Me with thought that lightens the load

of the washer woman

thoughts that place peanut butter

behind raisins in an open cupboard

 

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Me at the Edge of My Skin (part 2 of 2)

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Grandmother at 89