50/365: The Twin with the Ideal Condition
There should be two bodies:
this one that I pinch and pull
and starve and feed
and clothe and shame
and love and loathe,
and another I can provide with ideal conditions,
my experimental twins.
But we are not experiments.
There is no theory to test.
There are no new test subjects,
no erasure of problematic outcomes with new trials.
Tidy tales of truth and headway soothe
when we are without proofs and progress,
but they feel like lies today.
I'd rebel if I could.
I'd fuck death,
hold its sick-sweet head under water
until it collapsed into an empty puppet,
so I could take this body back
and own the rhythmic, subtle rocking of its meat
pink and promising,
new and free and seeking a history,
the twin with the ideal condition.
I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.