4. Melanie Challenger May 10 2009

Body

"I am better for seeing first hand..."

Unconquerable eye, dux of body's province,
Its long sight and blinking lust is a disease
Of the senses, each luminous glance
A blight at the dying rootstock of body's
Other charms. "But to shut, I've got to rest
Assured, rest each of my steps in faith.
A rubric tramp across this dust! The red confessed
Shuffle over acres of possession. To go with
The known, the lifelong yard. It freaks me."
Blind, landlocked, each hand becomes an eye,
The keen fingers its field of vision, its palm
The ever-changing black crux of sight's freedom.



Soul

"Each place you hide is part
of the ground reaching out..."

"Look! I'm the worm your company drums
Much as sleep's dark rhythms
Bully into fears. My titchy pound of fear seems
Little worth your while. While your mind's-eye dreams
A wonderland, the whitewashed present of a phantom's
Old stamping ground. Grind me underfoot you num-
Skull! I'm your soul. And souls come and come."
Body walks on, past the wind-struck shadow of home.
It gets wind of a voice but the sirens strike it dumb.
"Go on, grind me into dust, you nincom-
Poop! I'm your soul. And souls come and come."

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