Fragments, poetry written by Yves K. Morrow at
Chaozzy Lin



written by: Yves K. Morrow

Were I to gather my thoughts
just as they appear you would
not recognize the portrait.
I am a reflection of the voyeur.
My selves are not selves at all,
they are fragments
of a more substantial being.
A fragment can assimilate
any number of designations.
Make of me what you will.

Each teardrop is a star quilted
in unparalleled darkness,
I unstitch them one by one
but they go up in smoke
before ever reaching my lips.

I shed my second skin
and settle into the pauses
of your sacred architecture.
My derelict bones are dry enough to burn.
Will you furnish me when vacant?
Can you love me knowing
that I am temporary and inexact?

All that spills through my fingers is lost
for I have not the composure
to bend down and recover it.
My fingers stumble down
the length of your sternum.
If you were truly a fish
I would have emptied you
before consumption.

I drink your flesh by the inch
and when I have planted your root
as deep as it can go, I will fall upon it
again and again until I am grounded.
It is the act of loving which makes us whole.

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