Discordant Cohesion
A poem by Grace Black
There are shades to skulls
and dead languages inside of veins
My bones harbor synonyms of ghosts
and the memory of what it was like
to touch the idea of you
with my teeth. And I choke
The rote trek from waking to sleep,
regurgitation and the return
—confound
the monotony of my metacarpals
Fingertips
trace the outline of common
everyday things,
and toes skim floorboards that creak
with the herniation of you,
but it’s in the routine of it all:
Nothing ever changes, though every
thing has changed
Manipulated sentiment,
debris like unwashed sand
or salt in open wounds,
psalms of palms that do not pray
The clapboard cover and plasterboard
walls all echo
in a painstaking pitch, overplayed. Divorce
is a celebration of human sediment
in a disposable world where humanity
has consumed herself
Grace Black mingles with words as she navigates this realm. She is the founding editor of Ink In Thirds. Her work appears in Bending Genres, Maudlin House, Eunoia Review, and others. Find more at https://graceblackink.com/and @graceblackink
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