Liver, conch shell
of slick meat.
Colon, Siamese
boa constrictor.
Fingernails, spades
that can pick
at the body from the outside
in. Pancreas, pomegranate.
Vertebrae, a length of rope
for climbing days. Try pulling your hair
through your fingers
without the night
your ancestors pushed
you through their
blood into
this world. Lungs, knots
of air.
Vein, string inkblot.
Intestines, helix
that twists when your body
remembers its death
—still twists
when bleary lights
spill down boulevards at dusk
and it’s beautiful.
Face, everything
looks like a face.
The pattern of rain streaking
on the windowpane.
Tongue, an animal
heart.
Crescent moon, a shred
of mouth.