Skin’s Dark Night Amy Pence

Take Back

My knees, my joints, my ligaments
stretched in a foul midnight air, these
insects rubbing their legs,
the folded bodies so close
in us. Take
back, regret

that I did not touch
my father’s slumber, did not
regard the dying man, did
what I shouldn’t have done,
said, droned, my brute knowledge
disembodied. Take
back the beast, my
mouth, the heat, my
silence suffocating
that wends,
winds, that flies
in every face
to find you.


February 2003 2River