Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

The Body

I can not be the body now.
The question at the mouth.
The gravy well.
Eating soil
and chewing my heart
like a country without sleep.
I tried
eighteen
and the muzzle of oxygen and vomit.
I tried to control
the comings and goings
of rivers
(as if I could)
and have been left empty and older.
There are no more questions to answer
just the mud
on the carpet to clean.
There is always more mud to clean.
I wanted a birthday.
I wanted a cake.
I wanted a day without tears
and starts to wish upon.
I wanted to believe the kisses
and the pink hand upon my leg.
I wanted to believe it all would come true -
letters and words
and ornaments made out of silver and gold.
I wanted my garden.
Yet all along
the shoebox lay open
and the moon refused to shine.
The blackness a constant companion
for me to lick
like a scarf.
I wanted joy,
a hymn to take hold of,
a cloud to sail upon.
I wanted the eyes of a blue fish
swimming in the ocean,
sailing off into madness.
I wanted something that was only mine
and no one else’s.