This poem was written for the latest mini-challenge from Read Write Poem — write seven poems about the body in the context of October. I didn’t pick a specific body part this time — I went more with the general idea of “disappearing”. Enjoy.
P.S. If you want to read everything else I wrote for the mini-challenge, click here.
I can fold myself up so small. Bend my kneels, curl my back
until it cracks. Assume a flattened mantis position,
elbows swallowing themselves, wrists closing in on skin
like a pair of taciturn books. I could crush – no, compact myself
until my chicken bones break in the darkness. Knees become useless,
rotating broken legs in every direction. Arms flop, speaking limp doll dialects
until they die of gangrene. Eyes close, pull down the shades
to the light. A line in the silent black, one dimensional,
no longer speaking. The oldest trick in the book, Houdini’s envy – except
I don’t come back to tell you
that I’ve broken the void.
©2009 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.