When I look at a fruit
I do not necessarily think of a body,
man or woman, or the ways to peel
or unpeel skin from flesh to get to the pith
and the rind and the seed—
And when I touch a wound
I do not necessarily think
of martyrs or saints and the light
that flayed open the lacerations
on their backs—
And when the moon passes overhead
I do not necessarily think
of the wilderness of trees whose arms
upraised might catch its hurtling
into the healthy tonic of oblivion—
[LAG-other-response date=”09 10 2014″ url=”https://www.vianegativa.us/2014/09/party/” title=”Via Negativa: Party”]