Forgetting, As the River
by Abner Dormiendo
This only: the toes that graze
this navel of stones, the soles
that gripped the slippery path
of my bed. I am only the body,
the hurdle. My limbs cradle rocks,
dissolve them in the pit of my
stomach; the steps, sedimentary
like the softest of sentiments.
I am nothing but a sacrament
of passage, between the here
and there. There is nothing now
but the sound alone that I carry,
away from the mouth, unmoving.