Me as Mountain
I should
Return to The third
Before I come back to the First
Version
Of me.
Moi
the Perfect lip.
Dapper as such.
C’est moi
Strained, sprained
Splayed, and separated
like the foot, still crooked
from that blistering
Death in LA LA Land.
be. Death’s Bitter Butter
Death’s Survivance.
the Vellum’s grooves conceal
lumps and bumps.
bumps and lumps.
Inside are
Sketches for “mysweetheart” the drunk.
tracing over the paper
it was then that I came to realize that
the surfboard
he gave me
was intended to be used for a kind of waterboarding
he/they wanted to drown me out
when you are raised to fear water
you can never learn to swim,
just look at the mountains
as your body, slowly sinks.
when nature brought me to safety
I promised myself to live this next act
on my own terms
no longer assembling, and disassembling
my needs to the whims of others.
I sunk deeper into the blue hue
pollinating seeds
giving life to flora and fauna that had gone extinct
painted them as protective skins
as windows, as shields
with the seasons, until they became efflorescing pinks.
In the nude, I examined my body
watching the moon and the sun glare at me
together under one sky.
were they interrogating me?
holding me to task?
I could hear his voice:
“Unclench your fist”. It was my father.
I would fall, unbalanced to the ground.
Listening to the improvised instruments,
never to be ascribed to sheet music
I sunk into depths
But awakenings are a strange thing
I see me
for the first time
as mountain
A body with organs
A body with portals
A body that has the potential to transmit light
I turn to `he him’, and ‘they them’, and ‘she her
I slink myself around them and sing
Shower Me
SHOWER ME WITH ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD
I promise, I won’t say no, not this time.
O.Kholeif, 2025
