DANIEL KURIAKOSE
The Physical Disappears Like Memory
Just when I got back from my suicide,
the windows had been fogged electronically.
Everything had been something or other.
My leg bothered me/someone gift wrapped things.
My roommate left for the weekend
a song on the wall which didn’t take well to
the November and became the world instead of a song
in my mouth which was now
just an opening from my body to the world
which was now just the song. Each time
I tried to open my mouth another
dorm window opened instead.
On the ground, the fear of death I
had been looking for. In the mind, a
tangerine.
216 The Paris-American
Just when I got back from my suicide,
the windows had been fogged electronically.
Everything had been something or other.
My leg bothered me/someone gift wrapped things.
My roommate left for the weekend
a song on the wall which didn’t take well to
the November and became the world instead of a song
in my mouth which was now
just an opening from my body to the world
which was now just the song. Each time
I tried to open my mouth another
dorm window opened instead.
On the ground, the fear of death I
had been looking for. In the mind, a
tangerine.
216 The Paris-American
