Friday, July 13, 2012

They Will Take My Island

by Natalie Zina Walschots

carve a petroglyth into my belly
jagged, angry
a key against a car door

They are so much more than heads
            heavy lids
            brutal nose
            sharp plane and fat lip

buried to the shoulders
like a poor schmuck in debt
to the mafia
stoically facing the tide

friend to pumice
compressed volcanic ash
barely strong enough to buff a callus
soon eroded featureless
puffy and pock-marked
cheekbones sinking

my sweet red scoria
riddled with ellipsoidal vesicles
you're easy to chip as an enamelled fingernail

my fragmented ejecta
pretty glassy fragment
I so quickly forget you were forged from magma

sure as quicksand
        as Venice
        as hopes

we're sinking