Today I will lay this body of bones aside—
sweep it onto the doorstep.
And this shroud of skin encasing it,
scarred and spotted and shabby with age,
I will hang to air out emptily
beneath the tepid April sky.
The blood that defines me, rich and ruby,
I will store inside jars until I return.
Human thoughts I will surrender to flame;
and the bodily pain that confines me,
strikes as darts and ghostly groans,
I will leave like litter on the ground.
Today I will be no more than the aura
around me, contracting, expanding,
soaring above all earthly sensation.
Tomorrow I will mingle again
with moths on this shadowy sphere.
But today I will regrow my eyes—
—Megaera, Vol. 8, Issue no. 25, Spring 2006