3 Poems
Prairie M. Faul
A measure of f(l)ailing
My body as foreign object
As project of homeostasis
The seat of my soul
Sits in medicine cabinets
In vials and needles
This is phantom limb
Coursing from head to toe
This is defiant flesh
Irreducible to quantity
Or measurement
This is flayed skin
Resected
Resected
Resected
Till nerves are exposed
Till mind is exposed
Till the depth of exposure
Leaves ‘self’ open to air
Open to the whims of winds
Open to chance of corrosion
My body as open field
I have not walked in
My name as foreign place
repeated in hopes of familiarity
This is the struggle
towards comfort
the mania of recognizing it
as not-quite-right
This is that closest object
held in hand
in crux of mind
This is all flesh and bone
corporeality
I am trying to understand
And they will call this progress, too
You are rock
are stone
are placeholder of superlatives
like
this is what bravery looks like,
what strength is made of,
perseverance down to the bedrock
you are stone
atop hill
plummeting down
down
towards
possible dissolution
toward fractures from fault lines
from an inertia borne of
external forces
you are stone
you are cold facade
with indentations
of another’s choosing
with markings from environment
with erosion as your marker of time
you are stone
and no words
about the grace of your plummet
can make it
not so
I don’t trust your sight
I want to kiss the corners
Of your eyes
They are raw and angry
Swollen from an exchange
Of salinity or blows
Coiffed collar
Lighting the room
Food has fueled a fire so bright
I delight in the heat of its periphery
Tell me of the one you want to kiss
Who holds the space around you
So precisely
You can feel their release days away
These are distinct Like sea and storm
Taut and shattered pieces
A windowed scenery
and the be-speckled caulk to chide over
an essence flickering hungrily and its shadowy facade
Prairie M. Faul is unsure of her origins but longs to live in the old Cajun field her name was born in. Her work can be found in Entropy Mag, On the Veranda literary journal, and wherever softness is at its most elusive. Her collected trans-angst can be found at www.motsduprairie.tumblr.com.