Friday, March 31, 2017

They’ll Know What to Do

Your limbs know every role they’ve played:
they know from first to last where they have been
and what you made them do and what they made
you do and what their grand relation is
to that strange trick you call your consciousness.

You are more real to them than they are to the thing
you think is you. And yet today the thing you think
you are awoke inclined, resigned, consigned

to welcoming some new alignment with those arms
and legs and thumbs, big toes, and wrists and knees
and ankles, elbows – you got the news: you’re theirs

more than they’re yours. You are their fact; they’re
what you use: the dream components of your next
collective contrapposto pose of sex and art:

the props of your next act. They and you repose
in one shared certainty: your sole available resort
is to react. You’ll react as usual: factitiously,
enacting fantasies – to which they have been long
exposed. They’ll know what to do with those.


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