Like Stone

October 13, 2007

Sitting
I feel my body settle into classical lines,
echoing the formal postures
of all those old photos,
those daguerrotypes.

I feel so old,
feel like this body is a statue;
white and pitted,
sad and grotesque.
My skin is but a shroud
with openings at mouth and eyes
where my soul leaks through.

I think when you watch me
you’re looking for something
you expect to see- and don’t.
Some movement,
some fresh scar or scrape,
a new bruise, the deepening
of the shadowed undercircles of my eyes.

Some visible change, some movement,
and Im sitting,
a study in motionlessness.