Oh long flattened eel
Down my belly,
Before you I was nothing.
You are the one glistening art.
You are the great threaded lines
Sutured up and true.
Yes, you showed me how to call out
And know my voice.
I call out like a dying lion.
I bleed like a sacrificed lamb.
I lie down with both
And hear my voice
And it is my only poem,
Scar that opened me up down the whole belly,
That halved me in two,
Letting the last ghost of who I was
Rise into the air.
Scar of Andromeda,
Twelve nails hammered into my mind,
Twisted, sewn, and tied down
Like the fangs of a snake
To sink into my awaking,
Perfunctory lines driven to spirit,
For love or hate or forgiveness,
The poem crying out,
I am alive,
Scream of the licking flame,
I welcome you now holy scar,
And give myself wholly to you
Each lashed out syllable of who I am,
Tower of faith, ladder of flesh,
Beyond all that I can say or hear or see.
Photo by Milo Tobin