"The Bodied Sling" Poetry Collection

by Christina Trimarco '12

Christina Trimarco '12Late

You are burrowed back, scratches and furrows of pale skin

peeking out from the braided tears, each wriggle live and hungry,

each suckle raw the patient in, out, in, out

of breath.  Your oven breath and teeth like city grates

that chew the loose, littering film of my forehead, tongues lost,

halved to other bodies, other skins.


The broken of your back is full and dripping,

stumbling onto my palms which I press

hard to your collarbone and alone

you are borne and bursting and I grip,

am bodiless and climbing.


The Boy
In reaction to a dream

You want him back, but he wriggles in my hand,

a sallow animal gutted and shirking its skin

like trees shed their gaudy crowns of sun and ray

in the sinking time. My dress flickers

to the battered breath of wind, but you

are smeared and smearing, settled

in the horizon’s wrinkles.

I handle

what must be our son, his pores

like sockets squirm, rounding themselves

on each other, emptying the soft wrappers of flesh

which circle and curl in rinds and drop

to the leaves. We built him from seeds, grated

our wallflower sex till there he sat unraveled

and naming its body to the earth.


     Eat him, I say, and you do full-lipped,

basin-mouthed, his hair mossing

the corners of your lips. We make meal of it,

your tongue haunting the smooth bulbs

of your cheeks.


And soon we are all breath, branding

our yells to the open, each step licked our feet, peppering

the soles gritty and mustard, pollen swelling up our hems,

to bud new in the fabric.


Mother Ode

Mother, I wish to crawl

your marrow and tongue the cells

that catch in the blue of my teeth, savor

the burdened gurgling of your organ.

My mouth is tied to your tissue and I

return to the breast.


     From me, your eggs hang low,

the heavy scooped bellies of clocks

electric, and I am lioness skimming your body.

Like a spoon I am your modern lover,

white and heaving I clean

each milky shell, haunches broad


and I make mammoth the skull of your breath.


* Above poems are part of a collection awarded runner up in the Goronwy Owen Prize category for best collection of poems as part of the 2012 English Literary Awards.