Body

October 20, 2008 at 4:16 am (Dominic Alapat, Poetry)

 

And my skin, all sound.

A drum on which the world beats.

I am an instrument from

the land of no recall.

I am all skin, skin.

The world beats, I sing.

Voices, gestures, ghosts

parade here in my skin.

The world beats, I sink,

wind out of my lungs,

a human doll, talking

in nobody’s toyhouse.

 

– Dominic Alapat 

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1 Comment

  1. graciad said,

    This is a wonderfully evocative poem. It really calls to mind in a powerful way some of the postmodernist theories about bodily inscription.

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