Monday, June 27, 2005

Trust (or: Making an Eve) (Making of Eve Challenge)

Trust (or: Making an Eve)

I could tear you open.
Sleep leaves you-—you’ve already left—
flat on your back, belly and neck,
the softest, barest parts

exposed. And you’d never know.
Diving deep—-you dove--to such depths
that like a pearl diver who holds
his breath, you cease

to breathe. I've witnessed
the stillness of your chest. I've counted
each second before you gasped again,
rising—-risen—-to the surface.

I've measured that silence
with my own breath, held. Every night,
a Lazarus stumbles from the tomb—-
fallen--falling over the miracle

of his own soles. I could cut
a slit with my nail, slip a finger
beneath your skin, extract a rib and make a real
woman from that calcium and marrow.

And you’d never know. You’d awaken
in the morning refreshed and go
about the business of living.
You’d never even miss that bone.


Michael Parker said...

This is wonderful, Laurel.

keros said...

Great. Me likes too.

Pris said...

Magnificent, Laurel! I really love the way you build up so effectively to that tremendous close...he never even knows. Yes!