Jade in the emperor's death
mouth—to the grave—all openings
closed—no breath—no air—no life
to enter to leave—the end should
be silent—you stop my mouth
with yours—tongue, teeth, lips
and I call from within, rising
to your touch—and falling
beneath your weight to balance
sense and desire, to measure
life and place myself—a jade
cicada—last of the accoutrements
for the mouth of the Han
Emperor—where his blood stained
the carvings—the last parts of his
life—where he was human and
not god—place yourself in me
my blood comes for you.
Poem - Anne Elezabeth Pluto
Graphic - Bryson Dean-Gauthier
These are part of a collaborative project we have been working on for the past two years. Michelle/Unlikely Stories was the first to publish our poetry/graphic work.
del.icio.us
