When there is no more paper
left in my house, no scraps left
to write upon, when my walls
and floors are black
and my ceilings,
and the backs of my hands,
when my arms and thighs
are covered in script tattoos,
I will peel off my skin,
I will pile all the papers,
I will pull down the wallpaper -
those long thin Torah strips -
and in one cardboard box,
box big as a house,
I will send it to you,
the whole of it,
and this poem will be a letter
taped on top.
When you read it, you will understand
your duty to unpack.
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1 comment:
fucking damn baby
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