Touch
Touch?
to touch the earth is to defile it
each impact of hand or foot or hoof or paw
scrapes, cracks, blisters, and wounds
the dirt and mud and curdled ice
to embrace another is to put a knife to my back
either the proverbial knife of the other
or the glaring dagger-eyes
of watchers, present or otherwise
still my arms become brittle spines
sharp keratin scarring skin
even abstraction doesn’t help
the screens shatter, the fabric rots and tears, the sky is lacerated
its blood hangs like bones strung up in a museum
the weight of the words draw back my tongue
to keep the smog out of the air
touch, embrace, care, connection
held in stasis behind impermeable glass
only excepting a father-man who loves and embraces and cares
but he loves and cares and embraces a mirror
it does/doesn’t look like me
does/doesn’t sound like me
is/isn’t me
the embrace is suffocating like the smog of my tongue
the frame of the mirror an impermeable tomb
“it’ll keep you safe”
i can’t fucking leave
if my hand has ever touched
your back, your shoulder, an arm
god forbid a palm or a heart
there is a loaded gun in yours
next to it, a note, scrawlings of:
Do not shoot
Do not shoot
Do not shoot
there are no claws
there are no scars
there are no cracks
there are no wounds
there is no mirror
there is no tomb
the earth is safe
the air is safe
the cloth is safe
the glass is safe
stop thinking about it
it’ll go away
tell yourself a story
sing a song about life
let yourself happen
touch and be touched by
speak with your own voice
burn it down if you have to
unsee the gun
embrace the shattered
rest on defiled earth