One hand steadies her while the other in the
Deepest reaches of this room
Picks through collected debris.

As I begin to rise, the blurred forms of hungry birds
Peck and fly at seeds planted in the ground of flesh.

My skin begins to sweat; the stench of rotting is pervasive.
Her hand takes mine and she places my hand on her breast
And this time you feel her lungs and join in her breathing.

Take her breath in yours.
Stand, reach out your hands to feel this room.
It is overgrown, open to the sky, and there are three walls,
crumbling.
The room is a morgue from the waist down.
Close to cracks, filled with the litter of unbearable
experience.
Together cleaning the cracks and corners find what has been
dropped, forgotten.
The walls are coming down. Behind them
Memories accumulated.

I don't know how to protect myself anymore. A pill sticks in my
throat.

Walk across the yard, through half-melted dun snow.
Sink down and up the stairs of the sanctuary.
Ruins stain my body.
Red, fractures death, wards off the decay of resurrection.
I never wanted to see my body, to see her;
Have her see my body.

What is it to live not seeing what I have seen?
If I resist what I perceive, do I become invulnerable?
Unconscious. Do I shift the form of this body?
I can bury my perception of this crushed and bloody world,
within me.
Corps'd.