kyung

When my dissociation has a razored shadow

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2023: VOL. 38.

Tarot told me to stop splitting my self
like a brick against the window. Splintered
ask, as I whipped concrete brack into mirror,
body-lack, body-bleed pellucid in jaggedness,
broken again, ‘break’ the only word that keeps
creeping back, that and whatever else keeps
reflecting back in the ledges, legless scattering
of multitudes, shatters ravenous for sound
like hands full of sand. My arms once loose
now banded. My chest once bloomed
now banded, too quiet, as if incisioned from
its beating rhythm, how I watched these gaping
hundreds of glass grin and grin their lashes
before their glinting fell on the body-absence,
thin and luminescent for the satisfaction
of the cavernous mind, no longer present.
At best, it would all happen so fast. At worst, it would
happen, before my inner sight could understand
enough to grasp my lips could heed the chant that
I am protected and can ask, amidst it all,
to close my eyes, and let it pass.