Kathryn Hargett-Hsu

Metonymy

Would wake on three-quarters of a bed.
Launder my face. Enter my dreams into evidence.

Would without perceiving or recognizing—

rumor expanding in the cold,
leaking from blood’s fraternal domain.

Could title the ache, but won’t craft another

totem from the rain-disordered years
to fire in the kiln of the mouth—

won’t conjure to negate.

Contorting, grammatical body: undress it.
There I am, ordinarily miraculous—

I want the past to sew me into a periwinkle dress,

set me too close to the fire. The past wants
nothing—it’s the hangnail of the self

bristling when brushed by that familiar chord.
Stand up Katy & walk—I’ve spent too long
staring at my own corpse’s face.

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