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Body Noise by Sunanda Pati

Artwork: The Room by Eldzier Cortor

This wagon of flesh

Cupped with eyes  Seeing and unseeing,  This dragon belly,  Blood, bestiality turned into Paperweight patience by  Slush-driven spirit, is my body.  My body, this unknowing Masquerading between  Books and talks and whispers Meant to make  Sense of it all.  Torching the essence Of life growing  Between skin And nail, crumbly with earth,  A garden half-moistened With other-worldly wind.  My body : bundled history  Presented like a karmic show To grandmother and her mother  And her mother, Living time like Cinematic apparitions Repeating alongside,  Divided by decades Parallel  All the way to heaven And hell  Turning under a man's body, Twisting to some unnameable  Sensation Plugged  Between snaking  Legs and feelings, swimmers In a lake of daunting destinies, Is my body, unformed When I think  Of skiing, Of balancing on rope,  Or booking a ballet class,  My legs inform They will give way, If I cannot pause,  And feel my ribs rise With alien breaths that Were supposed to find  Their way in, is my body Shrinking in the mirror,  Breasts, buttocks, the gnarling  Of fingers known for failing At caresses investigating geographies  Between self and self  Is the body that cries,  Hidden in musty blankets  Of first impressions Cast on strangers and Lovers who won't stop  Sulking is my body,  Wanting silence, In the echoes of  A moon in heat,  A silence I could Eat up whole. 

Follow Sunanda's writing on her blog.


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