Finn Menzies
WHEN I PICTURE FATHERS, I PICTURE HOUSES
I dreamt that I was a farmer on the moon
babies started to grow from the silver soil
bright bulbs with embryos
veins running through the fruit
like human torches
I dreamt of their hearts
each one had a thousand feathers
their fragrance could make a funeral sing
one heart was a house of nuns
humming in melon afternoon light
I will never be a biological father
I will never see my face on theirs
I have to dream them to me like a magnet underneath the grass
TESTOSTERONE, A RITUAL OF LOVE
1.
our men have announced that women are not human
but I have already taken their name
some days the cloth of these words
turns the sky blue from choking
2.
saturday morning I listen to the lemon
of the harmonium in my bedroom
I draw the oil into my needle
& sun folds into the cylinder
a gem made of butter and scale
next to this blue bird window
I feel myself plainly
with the same love
I know will always remain
AFTER TOP SURGERY I AM NO LONGER POETRY
the days after surgery
my body wasn’t imaginary just to me
everyone with working eyes
only dreamt of me
I was veiled but less lonely in the fog
for those few days my body was nothing but poetry to us
then my memory and my sight found each other
around the circle of time
when someone hasn't been home for years & they finally return
there is always a flood
the relief grows so big they could swallow a forest
but the mirror and I were dry and clear like the desert
my home wasn’t the skin but the negative space
between the air and my body
I was finally the perfect ratio
my body and the rest of the world
when I touched my chest for the first time
I had already touched it a thousand times