Not sure why,
but I am compelled to cook this body.
As my skin pinks, I feel
my thoughts leaving –
squeezed out in beads of sweat.
I hear the racquetball bouncing so loud off the walls
that I think the sounds I hear
may be coming from the walls of my cranium,
being played like an instrument.
I am a hollowed-out gong,
listening to the ricochet off spine vibrating
low to high notes of emptiness.
The glue that holds it all together has melted
and a heel bone is floating free.
A recurring conversation is heard
(by whose ears?)
in the women’s locker room outside,
between a motherless girl and a worker.
They are searching everywhere for the small girl’s mother, Mary.
Mary may be in the pool – they leave to go see.
Mary is not in the pool.
Mary may be in the spin class – they leave again
and return.
Mary may be in the sauna.
I feel their eyes as they peer through the glass door at me:
Are you Mary?
No. I say. I am not Mary.
Are you this girl’s mother?
No. I say, as the girl stares in my face
as if she is wondering if I may be Mary, if I may be her mother,
transformed.
Could the sauna be a high-tech machine
from the future?
In you go as you,
out you come as another?
Am I only half-baked into my new form?
I feel unsure.
I could be Mary after all.
Who is now sitting in this little, hot box?
They leave again to go search.
For Mary.
A woman appears in the glass,
fiddling with the heat button.
Catching sight of me,
she beams – white teeth, bright eyes;
she goes
to the mirror to fix her hair.
I feel this face still beaming back at her long after she has left.
Soon this body moves to leave;
where does the will to move begin?
I am sure in this moment that the body moves
and the mind follows, like a dog following its master
and not the other way around.
What life am I returning to?
Stepping from the heat,
as the girl and I are reunited,
my thoughts are full of ice cream
and balloons, and she shall
tell me where we live.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Tags: detachment, identity, Living in the Moment, no mind