CAM
RANH
(Vietnam,
1970)
Guts
on floor
not
good for self-image,
so
not like
x-rays
in calm
black
and white. What you
thought
Body
turned
inside
out
like a glove who knew
you
carried, sliding
down
bunker
where
concrete dust
drifts,
heavy with silence;
hearing
the tramp of
blood
in your ears, rising -- rising –
coming
on like dusk.
We’re
not books, though
we
can be opened.
Don’t
ask
the
purple sheen answers
naked
as newborns. Insists
what we are
First published Gargoyle Magazine, Vol. 70, July 2019