Body’s Worth

A passenger throws a red scarf

out the window of a car.

Body falls. Skins

the road, rolls into the razor grass.

Salty nest off nerves lies

summer scorched,

licking the surface slick

as verb. Slick as motion.

In this moment body’s worth

can be measured by the grace

of decomposition but

no one mistakes knucklebones

for relics.

Daytime full moon.

In this moment

the eclipse breathes.

In the next moment body’s worth

can be measured by the ripple of

stones snagged in the blood pool.

*

A previous version of this poem appeared in The Reverie October 2015. I’ve revised it a little 🙂

Published by

jessicahalseywrites

Jessica Halsey is the author of The Slaughter Chronicles and many strange poems. She lives in Arkansas and writes urban fantasy, preternatural horror, and experimental poetry (and sometimes science fiction).

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