Arian Katsimbras

Issue #
February 28, 2015

My Son Asks Me, “Can I Use Science to See What Goes Through My Body?”

Somewhere the fields

are burning and I ask

that somewhere else

what it would dream

of if I could get belly

down under the heat

and feel the flames lick

the damaged air

back out of my lungs.

The field would say

nothing and open up

my face like a gate

and walk in without

closing it behind me.

You’ve always stood

outside the cut-line,

son, hands palm up

and I become again

oblivion and breath,

move through you

quick as your mom

left and took flight

over this red field

where what is left

is a man made empty

by you being gone

and further from me

still. All I’ve wanted

is to wipe the blood,

dirt from your feet,

to let this damage in,

come in from fields

and wash your hands

in light that moves

through our bodies

as silent as uprisings

of ash.

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