You must know this—since I don't knowhow to bleedI want to starve the heartout of my body,turn blood to foodfor other kinds of life—a stray dog with mangeof the tongue, a bird brokenby wind, wormsthat wanted to hear the rainand now wish to returnto the silent tunnelsbeneath the breathof sound. I want to dissolvein their molecules—not that I meanto stop existing, I meanto exist differently. Give up tasteto change the tongue, give upsky to be the nestof the unflying. Forget the soundof voices or evenmusic for the great deafnessbeyond what can besaid. This is a livingwhere senses melt away,where the insatiablechanges to defectivelylovely and tiny livesthat I can fill. [End Page 155] This is not self-hate.I am full of more desirethan you or your skinthat can bleedwill ever know. [End Page 156]
Amie Irwin lives in Tennessee with her two daughters and husband. She studies creative writing at the University of Memphis. This is her first publication.