Pastilles, past stills; or, a poem
By Gamze S. Saymaz
I
Would someone explain to me how to breathe
with moth-eaten lungs covered by a mouldy rib cage, it will crumble any second now,
sucking the tulle-thin flesh in with every attempt like the wailing breeze
if I confessed to you, and to you only
how visibly weak in the joints I am when you are all sleeping and how much you can possibly hurt me
(gently, please)
II
Would someone shake me from my statue shoulders
pierce them with wires transparent tie them in a bow over my spine so I would stand straight
marvel
at how strong I am I can stare open a rock melt away skin then close your eyes I will crumble any second
now
into ice-cube molecules and fervent dreams abreast
I am only human at best
lurching through bequeathed catacombs with cloudy eyes
stuff my dimly-lit wounds with cobwebs sloppily rolled into cotton balls
and some lace creased, stitch me up with the eyelashes you picked with your teeth everytime I cried
with a thick cloth in my mouth (don’t
swallow)
prick my bruises, cut them
out, nicely, fill in the holes with some clay, (quick), carve, steady, sculpt, brush away the dust, pare puckers, paint them positive petrified, polish sunshine and sword-like, steel, so they fit
so I fit
I look like a girl deserving of a smile
I’d be oh so much prettier if stars spark in my eyes without shooting home
or glistening jewels behind a pool film ripped apart
a swamp
maybe
you would call it
or a flooded anthill
and I a fearless fighter if only I could use the right kind of muscles the ones that tone my I am un
breakable
I should wear my face as a shield that reads un-
touchable
but fingertips caress, take cover, glass, shatter, shrink, sluice lifts, leak
but maybe my eyeballs are wet from standing against the wind for too long without blinking
because it would mean I, too, was capable of bleeding
undress me here of my fatal flaw
wipe away weak
wipe away sad, “miserable,”
fragile, sensitive,
hurt
wipe away human
wipe away, I don’t feel like smiling
today
lurching through bequeathed catacombs with cloudy eyes
who else would count the heirlooms with such infantile greed, from where veins break into river arms I will flourish
but, for now, I will crawl and sleep inside of your mouth
if you don’t mind
*
Gamze S. Saymaz is a (screen)poet who has recently turned one of her poems into an experimental video art project that can be seen here throughout February. She has a Youtube channel where she recites original poetry and promotes public performances of personal vulnerability for some probably pretentious reason. You can also follow her on Instagram for screening updates.