I lay myself on my mind’s
dissection table, eager
to begin slicing into my flesh;
with my question mark knife.

I wonder, again, why
I can’t give up this addiction
to know what I am. Man? Essence?
Something more? Something less?

I smile as my shivering skin
is ribboned by my slashes of impatience.
To get to the meaty rawness of emotions,
I scourge myself with mental pain.

I feed on expansion of moments,
disintegrate fragmented time,
bleeding marrow’s sick tallow flame
as the wick of my soul ashes low.

I dissect myself and my madness
in my scientific laboratory-mind.
The categorizing is done for the evening,
I’ll try again when I get more time…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/5/04