The Body

By HAIDEE KRUGER

the Body rearranges
itself around
the other.       points of entry and exit,
embraces.     Embraces.     the
thrill of skin.         density
surrenders to Liquid.         semen, blood,
mucous, milk.         the Body yields to

its double.     it takes One into,
lets One out.       it breathes only
in reflection.       in between,

the Body grows into
the swell of a question mark.        then.
Then.

pain pinballs echoes,
cell to amnesiac cell.          the Past fleshed
unexpectedly.         the Body

is a superconductor, pure
light leaping.     Time pours
out of it, a warm rush of
presentness.     Inhale.        the beating
world.          Exhale.
Again.      Again.
Again.

and after
the Body shrinkwraps
loss, ties it with red ribbons.      the Body
rearranges, leaks, empties
itself of
Itself.      demands to be
mopped up.      staunched,
stoppered.     yes.     Yes.
the Body returns to

the shape of a comma.      a breathless
Pause.

 

 

Haidee Kruger is a senior lecturer in translation at the North-West University in South Africa. Her debut collection of poetry, Lush: Poems for Four Voices, was published in 2007.

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The Body

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