a conversation in poetry

Dominique Hecq #4 – Unline – in response to Melinda Smith's 'accumulate'


The wind is weathering the skin
in lines that tell of life lived
in braille as though it knows
how to unhood the eyes,
unwrite the lies, sand off
the varnish on the heart.


I tried repairwear, laser
focus with its promises
to smooth, restore, correct.
Now I exfoliate as you would
sand hardwood, imagining
the tree, not the floorboards.


Plank, trunk, stump, bark, phloem,
cambum, xylum, annual rings
heartwood, limbs, branches, twigs,
buds, leaves, clenticels, scars.
Crown. Taproot. Primary root,
radicle caps and hairs. Seeds.


As my skin and eyes peel
I see adventitious roots
originate from other
organs: I'm up for flaying
down to the crisscrossed chambers
of my scoria compacted heart.