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 Untitled

Jessye Cohen-Dan

re-           

membering:

he tells us, putting back the pieces of something broken, or merely,

            made loose at the seams.

members like limbs,

like these clubs I am not sure I want to pay the

dues for. times are lean and I may need

to scribble over the margins,

I may need to borrow your pen on the train.

the seams of me             split

too long in the dark

            with a vow that the sunglasses are for my third eye, beneath

jumbles of dirty black hair

so I still squint

and you think I am blind

            but I am re-membering

            the pieces (parts1,2,3)

like dogs, I have discovered

            playing dead

(a thin white girl kind of trick)

at first,

     it is exhilarating yelling you think I’m broken, but I’m not! from my place on the curb,

curled and rolled breathing through my nose

but eventually, it has come to this (the cracked places large enough for a bowl of

                        tomato soup):

I want you to see me stand up again, where you drew graffiti

            now is gesso-ed.