Steph Bruzon

By S. Bruzon

you’re asking

(pleading)

show me where the light is. 

/

unrepentant, 

I ask you to undress me. 

/

you are a nonconformist

that has tried to conform–

/

you strip me from behind

and try to wear me 

like a uniform. 

/

I,

too,

have tried to 

wear you. 

/

I,

too,

have mistaken 

sin 

for 

an excuse 

to excavate 

/

the 

carcass  

within, 

/

the swan’s 

frail body

that has since rot. 

/

the smell

of it that fills us up

until 

the ashes come 

out of our mouths 

every time we speak

recite 

sing

or fuck. 

/

you’re asking
(pleading) 

would you mix your ashes

in with mine? 

/

yes

and I can be the urn 

until it is your turn 

to be mine. 

/

to unspeak 

to unlove

to undo

to be penetrated

in the 

aperture 

that most defines you. 

/

dressed in white,

I could be a puritan,

or what’s left of Him–

a skeleton

a handmaid.

/

and 

yes, I am handmade. 

/

only under your hand

am I real. 

/

when the time comes, 

/

forget the ashes.

/

like them, 

we want to disappear. 

/

if you want to be unseen, 

/

don’t worry don’t touch me

/

I, 

too,

am not here.