This poem first found a home in the “Clear” issue of 5×5 Lit Mag (2010, no archive available).
Slight edits were requested, to which I agreed. The published version is shown here.
My Body is an Uncapped Mason Jar
First appeared in 5×5 Lit Mag (2010)
The clear liquid and light of me
is visible to you.
Color presses along my seam,
and I split myself like spectra.
I lift myself, thirsty, to the sun —
my heart, the glint along the edge,
questions the window of my skin.
The distance of my years is soft, unmolded,
like the verbs and pronouns
that spill me into the slow,
free-fall globes of good-bye,
until I am dropping without landing,
and there is light refracting everywhere —
shards of it, and waves —
a vertigo of curvature.
Every glass holds the thought of its own breaking
in its slow and heatmelt atoms,
more fragile than knowing,
and translucent like a warm breath.