Liz Waldner

In brief, we have devoured ourselves, and do...

As they leave Earth—here I falter—stealing
Into our hearts to be a kind of nothing
(The exactest element for us)
yet tremble nonetheless
At the name of Death—as they leave earth
Is the absence of Organ or Instrument
Amongst all those curious pieces (Clavicle.
Psalter.) in the body of each loved being
For Soul to be a comfort and redeem? I cannot more
Darken my speech. That a beast doth perish
Entreats a moment's breath from me
Merely knowing not where'd it go,
How can this be? So the possibility
Of you, gone—so should have gone—
From me. No further verity. I have been
Materialled into Life, I have sat beside you
Beside myself with watching your mouth
As you speak, I have loved the words
Of your mouth so that my perishing will be
Unlike a beast's—yet without
Testimony other than my pen's.
Is this dismal conquest in digestion?
As digestion? Or digestion?
If all I am came in at my mouth
What then is SING? Some of I am
Came in at yours or yours came being into me
When I heard—I grazed—a gamma flower
Opening quotidian
The news how I would die:
You dreamed the dream I gave you
But woke beside some other I.

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