by Abner Dormiendo

There is much discovery in dismantling.
A city deprived of its light reveals only
Star-studded skies. A violin is only as loud
As the number of people in the room,
Or rather the lack of it. A body stripped off
Of muscles reveals bones. If you take apart
The face of the clock, the cogs you will see
Has more beauty than time itself. But time
We discover is not a device to dismantle, but
One that dismantles. We saw ancient cities
Crumble to rubble and buried beneath
Ashes and dirt, dust. Strings can only pluck
Until it breaks. Cogs can only turn until time
Turns the work to rust. This remains hidden
As long as we do not learn the art of
Disassembly. The body is only a body insofar
As it is whole. We are only what we are
When we are together. We had our times.
And now it is time to dismantle. Lay down
The evidences on the table. Look at the
Artifacts. Do not enumerate them. Instead,
Ask: how long has it been since? What caused
This? How to tear the objects piece by piece
Without inciting decay? We have tried carefully
To take us apart, as if we are archeologists
Digging each other’s ruins. Dismantling
Ourselves from the other. Cautious
Of the impending collapse. Trying, for once,
To discover.