Danny Gentile #36 - Membrane

Membrane

This. But for the clamour of a book

that I feel. The nested book. The one

with the cracked eggshell. I wanted

it birthed at home but it came unsafe

and needing of a word to bestow

inheritance. I wanted to pick at the

patina to find the tough membrane

which kept it safe. But somehow

I resisted this, the urge to destroy

what hadn’t yet become. I took pages

and shredded them, tucked them

‘round to keep it warm. But I’m told

this will not work, told that the hour

is late and the heat from a feather

is all but gone. So sing the reminder

of a forlorn song for reawakening.

Sing a song for a birth not quite

become, and wonder what to do

with the leftovers when the vigil

is over and I am wanting to lay

away these remainders of grief.