if we are to believe The Fates control our lives
twining golden thread between their ancient hands
glinting scissors within reach
with edges that in one swift motion, end it all
and send the life to join grey masses in the Underworld
locked in Hades’ realm

with every touch and word and look
thin strands join in a solid harmony of color
we weave the tapestry of the earth
here i was born, I have died, and i returned

when I stand under trees they lend me their height
my skin is rough bark
birds reside in my hollow organs
and my limbs reach toward a blanket of stars
through my branches i will see an atlas of human life
spread throughout the universe
pulsing threads that connect and intertwine

my string knotted with yours
somewhere after hope had died and flowers once again
raised their heads in greeting to the sun

flesh bruises easy and hair falls away
and eventually everyone will be nothing but dust and brittle bones
beneath a cold slab
anonymous in a sea of stones

the body is not alive


i.
hands


callouses and paper cuts


that held his hand when it was too cold and


both our fingertips reeked of heavy spices


though the skin made contact


it was just to keep the winter out


and not the human in

ii.
eyes


plain brown; faulty and too short
the world muted as if drowned in water


blurry as my thoughts on sleepless mornings


if i can’t see you maybe you won’t see me
a lens makes life sharper
not clearer

body parts and muscle masses
a complex assembly of actin and myosin
that push and pull and touch
yet the heart is the only muscle that moves not the body but
the soul