The Body There is something nearer than the body. How else would we wonder, Is that knuckle Going to crack or isn’t it? Were we The body, how could we be so aware Of it, as if it belonged to someone Else? I seem to look down on my body As one does in those dreams in which one dies And hovers over, say, the plane wreckage, As once I did, feeling a vague pity, Thinking, So that’s how it ended, only To wake up in my body, or near it.
The Body
The Body
The Body
The Body There is something nearer than the body. How else would we wonder, Is that knuckle Going to crack or isn’t it? Were we The body, how could we be so aware Of it, as if it belonged to someone Else? I seem to look down on my body As one does in those dreams in which one dies And hovers over, say, the plane wreckage, As once I did, feeling a vague pity, Thinking, So that’s how it ended, only To wake up in my body, or near it.