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
216 The Paris-American
Daniel Kuriakose makes films and poems usually. His poetry has been published in Driftwood Press, MadSwirl, Allegro and others. More of his projects can be found at danielkuriakose.com and his email is firstname.lastname@example.org.