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.