dig.
dig at the gristle between the meat and
the stone the bone the branch of the family tree
that digs heels into
history and the flesh the meat the promise of
action of animation of agility
dig at the stuff that links the two
the connective tissue that fascist the fascia
that tend/ons to bind
history
gets stuck into habits and habits and habits and habits
restrict inform allow
the limbs the bones to be enfleshed the flesh to be
stony the trunk to branch out and to
dig for secrets and roots and underground gatherings
 
dig your hands -- you knew it was coming –
dig your well informed phalanges towards the centre of my trembling:
the organs the fear
the stomach desire
the liver history
the spleen hope
the lungs music
the gonads dancing
we think with our heart
we feel with our head
we dig with our hands
and reach with our feet
 
where are you on this sloppy topography. which organ holds love
not the heart it is the
unseen the clinging the connecting the allowing
if my heart
if my muscle
moves without it nothing happens
the stone bones cannot think of action without
it
the idea manifests in this stuff
this shift
which binds
for which
i dig
 
© Geneviève K

(why my homework isn’t done)
 
his eyes are green. sorry. but they are.
green dreams green sea green
hope ringed in granite grey
i could never pronounce his name
 
crossing the quadrangle in a world of
abstract concerns i staggered my overwrought
mind directly into his mouth
 
he kisses me every time we meet
 
i can smell him between the pages of my
art history books
 
the question is always one of freedom:
revolution versus rebellion
and that form that encourages or
merely appeases that
filthy throbbing sacred need
for something better
 
i have been in the library every day this month
when he sees me there the kiss is a secret
in the chicken shop it comes with a kick
after history class he licks my teeth clean
 
sociology. anthropology.
kinesiology. psychology.
i recognise his morphology
in the slipping and flipping of my school book pages.
 
…
 
sitting in class
apologetic and eager
professor begs for synthesis.
my panties go damp


© Geneviève K