Chelsea Grimmer
My Dearest Dr. xxxx,
You smell like yellow
and sound like acupuncture
needles pressing into that spot
just below my knees.
With little found in your room to cool
the foot-fever each night
tell your fictions:
And I tell you:
I am healing. I am healing.
Then this waiting:
a yellow room
and few scents to satisfy
soft-salt cravings.
Holding the paper
that will sand down
bones: whiten them
a manageable size.
Wanting for an ache
in the collarbone,
waiting for a stretch
of the ribs.
I happen in a body: skin and hair
and muscle and instruments
compressing this diaphragm
and say again how:
THE PAST IS VAPOR AND YOU WILL DISSOLVE INTO THE FUTURE IS A FABULOUS LINE OF BROKEN BOTTLES YOU HAVE NOT YET BROKEN AND THEY SHIMMER IN MORNING FOGS GO BREAK THEM
And I tell you:
you are the magnificent healer of the body. you assigned
a dog to the heart & flesh to smell the flesh. you assigned
crispy chicken skin to the brain. you assigned blue pills
to the lungs & say:
YOUR LEFT LUNG IS SMALLER TO EASE THE HEART AND EASE THE LUNG BECAUSE YOU FIND YOUR AIR AND HOLD FOR INFLATION THE LUNG AND THE HEART WILL PUMP THE FASTER MUCH FASTER.
Thus, I am indebted
to the magnetic vibrations----
Yours of yellow
bruising and crackling cartilage,
----R
My Dearest of Hairy Companions, Mon Chien Blanc,
about the smell of manic:
I hear the bee herds ‘tween our gazes
(pink tongues make teeth seem white)
you watch the shift the stir you smell
the changing brain blood & sniff it
how to make a scent-map for the body?
skin here bones there & then the flesh?
a taste & trace & map the course
when waiting to be here
the winter turned hot
& the earthquake woke & all
that was left were these
covenants turned to salt
with everything underwater I asked
but did not hear an answer
the bee herds plumbing my bones----
(i surfaced hairless but breathing & bones with bee-filled marrow)
oath to lead a lifetime
of chicken livers red pink wet
& the sound of a brain clicking into
did the ticks do this?
can you smell my dead babies
swim this ransacked tubing?
----
I remember the first time I called
myself into a body & waited for you
to follow: prophetess I called & waited
in the buzzing until I heard
my brain crescendo into
& asked for you & surfaced hairless
but breathing & skimming the intos
sliding a sound called jouissance
& with it each scent I knew
now my eyes are level with the water
& you smell it. now I think
the world smells like fresh-cut
cow skin & I know you smell it too:
it is the only way to know
you smell it too don’t you----
yours like the change
from open to scabbed,
----R