unreal city
Kristy Bowen
dancing girl press & studio
A long poem inspired by TS Eliot's THE WASTELAND.
from UNREAL CITY:
9.
When we had bodies, the bodies were always at
war.
With themselves or with other bodies.
So much blood in the body, and there
on the field. So much waste. We'd collect the
bodies
and burn them in stacks. What good the body
unless it was bleeding out? When we had eyes,
we'd pluck them out onto plates. Hate the body
for its flesh and appetite, its flex and
tuck. Fucking
in the afternoons and then fighting all night.
When we were bodies, the blood ran us like
machines.
Like tiny plastic green men softening in too much
sun.
Too much languor in the body when left too long
untouched.
When we were bodies, we'd light ourselves on fire
to satisfy the body, just this once.