I, Rachel, your oh-so-humble entertainer, have prepared a poem for you on behalf of National Poetry Month. This one was published in Pacific Lutheran University’s literary journal, Saxifrage, in 2018.
Enjoy!
***
Paper Mâché
Stale water, flour in clumps
form a sticky paste
mold a mask and arms and chest
down to hollow waist.
Paper layers in my skin,
I break these brittle bones.
Whispering winds tear these limbs
that have withstood sticks and stones.
I lay me out and let me dry,
thin joints stiff with glue.
For hours on end, let me begin
to carve my form for you.
And as the cracks in my skin snap,
my body bends and drags,
the paper skeleton sweeps away;
caught on jagged snags.
I feel this face upon my skull
of aging yellow sheets;
I don’t recognize my own eyes
sunk deep in my cracking face.
The more I try to solidify
my shaky stance, the more I buckle;
I tumble in the dark,
shred by shred; I stumble.
I peel myself apart.
Paper layers in my skin;
I unravel shards
of air bereft
of breath; when I look upon myself
there is nothing left.
Rachel Sandell 