Heather Romero-Kornblum

Fundamental

1.

Last time I was the glue,

my joints dissembled

melted 

like horses’ hooves

My skin hung like

leathery saddlebags

carried on my flank

I faded into nothing

collapsing under feathers

2.

How much can you weigh a woman down?

I was dust of bone

filings

lopsided grin

mop of hair

And still,

I was being used

3.

Blow me up 

like a confetti pinata 

4.

Again, how much can you extract from a woman?

 

I no longer find beauty

in coarse grains of grout

slathered

between shimmering bathroom tiles

(I used to look at

one side of a wall

and see potential

I used to forgive

for effort)

The collages of water-stained ceilings

earth meets water meets air –

all elements living together

no longer suit me

(I learned that

porousness

is not a virtue)

5.

The last time I was glue,

I could barely keep a pulse

They said

I was obsessed with my body

and how I feared it was disappearing

Evidently, women can live

inside holograms

6.

Stop asking me for things