Leland Quarterly | Fall 2021
The Body Kamilah Arteaga
The body is a graveyard — A collection of marbles and mementos, The texture of memories: Fresh, Cut, Rubbed smooth by rain, Eroded by moss. Each bone is carved and carpented into Stick-figure puppet shows, With finger joints as arms, And toes as thick-boned thighs — A play made in loving memoriam. Areas of land upturned by fresh diggings, Grass clumped, healing, Patched together again, Whole, Not the same, though.
Each tendon is boiled,
Bleached, And bland, Torn-up movements are spun into Oscar-worthy performances, A doll plopped into acceptable stitching.
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