in silence

Month: September, 2014


I read the obituaries from over my mother’s shoulder.
Something about the way the lady smiled
at me through the pages was vaguely familiar ; I
found myself tracing the lines that her nose,
eyebrows, eyes, made across the rectangle, mapping out
the curve of her smile against the patterns of her skin.

I hear myself telling my mother –
“She looks like she was very pretty when she was young”

– “We are all pretty when we are young”

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copper is an excellent conductor of electricity

Run that copper through your mouth
one more time – that’s it, nice and tight.
The taste is almost familiar, Iron is no
stranger to my palate.

But today, copper is on the menu
Aujourd’hui, copper est l’entrée,
le plat principal et le dessert.
Today, I am copper
Today, I am copper filled

Chemistry Lesson 101: Properties of Copper
a. ductile; can be easily shaped and fed through your veins like the blood never ran there
b. tough; one of the cheapest and strongest materials for making a weapon
c. non-magnetic; not of much use here but I suppose it’d be nice if you got lost in a scrapyard
d. an excellent conductor of electricity –

Are you sure you’ve got it tight right there?
Oops, looks like I forgot to turn on the switch!

say my name

I look down to find pieces of myself forming an island around me.
“shit, what have I done”
You see, when I’m nervous (or bored), occasionally both and
on occasion neither, I have this habit. I peel away layers of dead skin
from my body. From the soles of my feet, the callouses on my fingers
that patch on my knee. 

I don’t know what I’m searching for. 

I peel away the parts of me that are well-worn, earth torn, 
love scorned. I dig my fingernails into tissue towers that no
longer whisper my name. Some days if I dig hard enough,
there is pain. Mostly, there is just skin. 

I keep searching, searching for a reason to do it, searching
for a reason to stop. I never find it. But I have learnt that when skin
leaves our bodies, it hardens. It curls ever so slightly, stiffening
as it reins itself in,

like paper drying out after a night in the rain. 


11.18 pm

In the mirror, something feels un-
familiar. The shadows that sculpt
my face are wielding their scalpels in 
a different way. I almost forget it is a
version of me trapped between sheets
of plastic and glass.


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