A Poem By SIÂN ASHK O’SHEA
I watch as ribs are split away from sternum:
tissue tears, cartilage cracks, bone snaps;
this is a luminescence of sulphurous yellow,
Molten iron orange, strontium flame red.
Physicality of emotion, a spherical fire
burns its way through unnecessary muscle.
Inhalation clogs the lungs with the dense smog
Of frustration. It sticks: tar-black, suffocating.
Discovered and untethered: a pulsating
mass of tissue; cardiac in origin but
blacker and more putrid than has been seen.
This is removed, it is no longer necessary.
A pipette’s splash of regret falls from your palm
Into the pool of burning sun-yellow
And the colour swirls, mixes to purple,
Leaving a churning batter of shades of confusion;
hues of yearning; overtones of masochism.
I stare down at my shattered thoracic cavity
And up at you, hovering over these remnants:
This half-me. You possess these parts now,
This happened without control, with great force,
Almost innate: that I am only contrived in your eyes;
That I am a literal shell of the person I wanted to be.