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Paula Kolek Expiation He’s scalpel, parting skin from breasts, breath from lungs. She lies on printed paper, pretty as gift wrap. His gloves pry secrets like pearls between her thighs – the sky
splits, trees stripped bare tongue depressors. Rubbing alcohol, soap, a sanitized
Monet and diagram of the human ear. Patting her, he says, Desire
is
the source of our suffering. She watches the words pierce the purple ear drum, lodge in the hair cells of Corti. How do you take back what you don’t know is stolen? Listen! Flesh isn’t mute, the body speaks in blooded dreams. Oh, to be able to say, this and
this and this, in a language only stars understand. They’d burn his hands to stumps, place grace above his head, forgiveness at his feet.
Paul a Kolek is a current MFA
poetry candidate at the University of Miami: Her poems have been published in
Ditch, Otoliths, EOAGH, and
RECONTRUCTION: Studies in Contemporary Culture and have been accepted
for New Letters. She has also had a monologue presented in The Krane’s production of Monologues Lingus .
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