Being
Does the body house the memories
Or are they only in the mind?
Can I have someone else’s thoughts in my own head?
A transplanted conscious warring against
The flesh of self
Perhaps reincarnation sometimes falters
Between
Two planes of existence
And here we are.
The Unbelongings
Misfit renderings
Incomplete
And made with lost reference points
File —
Data —
Not found
Original source material lost
My memories disjunct in a brain
Or is it my body?
Too ill
A poor formation - hollow - like a snowman
Or a scarecrow
Or some other homunculus
Even Frankenstein’s monster was in possession of more conscience and
Consistency of character
Than my volatile skin-avatar
Does my consciousness crawl bug-like through my veins, under my porcelain skin through blue
vessels like minuscule cracks beneath the surface?
Or am I all that I am, locked inside this diseased mind tethered to a muscle,
bound behind bone?About the Poet:
M.O. Stewart currently resides in the woods of southern New Hampshire with her husband, their three children, the family cat, and a few rabbits. If she isn’t writing, she is likely making music, crocheting, crafting perfumes, baking, watching horror, or generally getting herself into some variety of unhinged mischief.
I love the depth, imagery and imagination of this piece. It really resonated for me. Great work!