Academic journal article Hecate

I Return to My Body (I Turn for Home)

Academic journal article Hecate

I Return to My Body (I Turn for Home)

Article excerpt

A bad day's work

:no animals, no equipment, no entertainment.

The vacuum cleaner vibrates, rattling its screws

a filthy heat pulsing from both ends. Turns out

we are merchandise, but by this point it's way past

time to pocket the wad of notes and move on.

The body, the thing

we wake to each morning returns us from our nightly

avatars back into our bulky selves. Shape-shifted

and flying Ira is crumpled paper, Sheela is a soft toy

on a dark street. Morning comes, foot on a face,

climb the ship, the elephants, the disciples. The tower,

the stack, the fans. Whatever.

Existence?

.. .well that's their orbit swing around my head.

Crawl into a space without selfies.

And put me in the picture. How does that work?

The familiar room a one-way valve of unused volume.

In the corner Lily of the Valley dug up and dumped

in a plastic carrier bag.

Human

amusing, and occasionally disgusting

pollutants upwell continually. It's a world of desire

:open your device, change this setting. Mouths

:soft things snag on hard things. CCTV records

the moment (but not the grief or rage

that follow).

And the aftermath?

Briefly moving on there is more moving on.

As a choice, it's an opening full of holes. Like using

oversize brown coveralls instead of indefinite pronouns.

Crisp-shirted at the beginning, wilting by the end.

That was the world: motes in the air, windows pegged

shut, the stuffing shaken out.

A garbage truck

moves along the road. Sun shines and disintegrates

(it can be gradual). …

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