Body Talk
Joan Papalia Eisert
the eggplant's in the oven
the plants are watered
my face is washed
my hands are shaking my hands are shaking
shit shit i'm here
my head is pressured pain and strain
my throat is caught in swelling
while again again
my stomach is tumbling and shoving
the bloom of frozen terror nausea
to the limitation of my essential skin
working so diligently
sepecially around my arms
and my wrists my achille's wrists
they cry they cry
they lead the memories
they bagpipe the attack
they receive the command
to remember how it felt
with him on me in me consuming me
killing me
i can never go home
i can never go home
i'm dead i'm dead
even though he sent me home
he sent me home across the yard
how did i get there
how did i walk when i was dead
how could i go home
when i could never go home again
but i'm back i'm back after years
i'll go wash the dishes now
i've got to wash the dishes