Academic journal article TriQuarterly

By Earth

Academic journal article TriQuarterly

By Earth

Article excerpt

Or I will lie at the front of a church, in a box, a kind of low, dirt altar, I will be inside it, on my back, without breath, without brain, and my friends will come by - they will be only the grain of the wood away, its pouring currents, one may lay a palm on it, as if resting a hand on a waterfall. They will not hate me for being mortal. They will know I can't help it - the lips, grimace, stroke- flung-down hands. They'll forgive the blood congealed, the shit bacterium passing, at last, through the walls into the whole body. I used to want to ask my mother to forgive me for my life, for my body that stood in the light of her death, and for my rogue mind - she wanted a boy obedient to her, I came here without a penis and judged her. I felt she could not forgive my two dark eyes, one the soil-black pansy, one the earth-brown Mourning Cloak. And later, when hair poured from my cruxes, like a corpse's in the grave, I felt as if she did not like it, she did not want more matter of his matter, or even of her own. …

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