Stone Soup Servings is a regular series for Oddball Magazine that features upcoming performers at Stone Soup Poetry, the long-running spoken word venue in the Boston area that has partnered with Oddball Magazine. Stone Soup Poetry now meets from 7-9 p.m. every Monday at the Out of The Blue Art Gallery’s new location at 541 Massachusetts Avenue in Central Square Cambridge, Massachusetts. The open mike sign-up at 6:30 p.m.
On October 24, Joyce Angela Jellison returns to us for a full-length feature, and we are excited to have her back. We hope you read today’s poem by her and that it convinces you to join us this coming Monday.
Counter Clockwise
Sometimes in visiting past lives
Traveling
In borrowed skin
Bearing
Latticed
Scars arranged in crisscrossing trauma
Just
As neatly as freshly baked blueberry pie
I become a whisper
A former shifting self
Watching
Listening
Crouched
In the pulsing density of
Memory
A murmur
A bruise
In borrowed skin
I make love
Dare
to
seek pleasure
anonymously
fraudulently
all the while
Finding comfort
At least quiet
In the
Folds of
Another life, the flesh of pilfered identity
The counter clockwise
Beating of heart
The rhythmical throbbing of
Arteries
Pulled
Backward, a bloody reversal of living
The timing, scheduling, deliverance and indifference to defining humanness
The Grinding of teeth
The routine
Catch and release
Of oxygen
The calculated disposal of toxins
The steadiness of another’s
Fears
Therein is a mutiny of sorts
A radical transitioning
Blasphemous thieving
Using a strangers hands
to love
to batter
to heal
to masquerade
This borrowed body
This
Worn and leathered
flesh
more garment
than organ
Yields easily
to possession
Takes macabre
Pleasure in disambiguation,
the fileting
neatly,
Precisely
Spirit from pearl white bone
This body stinking to high heavens of
Dispossession
Aching with chronic emptiness with
a belly shrunken and hardened to stone
wraps itself with desperate giddiness around
an interloping
Spirit
Mouthing
Salted lies
With barely
A whisper
more a groan
a yielding
More
Of murmur, a sigh
A watch rewound
To time a faint pulse
A borrowed
Repentance
Crouched in the
Density of memory
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