blog of poet, leah umansky

Anatomy of

If this had a mouth; it would seal itself; steal itself, meal itself into tomorrow. If this had a foot; it would ground, round or pound its way into tomorrow. If this had an ear it would pitch itself lowly, bellow beholdingly into something piqued and spotted.

Don’t say we fought, because we didn’t, my mother says in discussing my long lost wedding.

If this had a hand it would suggest love, tenacity, passion, but inside its palm would be a reddened sore, permeable; permutable; a plumped perm.

I will admit the role I played.

If this had a backside, it would be stopped-up; dumb and pained. I did not want to let this go.

If this had a hipbone, It would swerve and slither and beat itself up into your palm; beating and beating and beating then meeting, fleeting, retreating into  that hollow that would be this’s heart.

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© Umansky 2010