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DECONSTRUCTION AS SEARCH FOR PEACE IN THE AGE OF IDENTITY CRISIS

By Rachael Hill



Take apart my face, piece by piece; start with the large features

place my nose in a bowl of its own

pop out my eyes and rest them in egg cups, irises up

peel off my lips, one at a time

and lay them to dry on a strip of paper towel

slice off my ears

and plant them in the garden so I can listen to earth’s beating

shave the hair from my scalp

matt the shorter locks into felt for cloths and tea cosies

but gather the longer lengths and hang them in plaits by the door to ward off evil spirits

pull out my teeth one by one

and secrete them in tiny vessels about the house, so I, like God, can be omnipresent

pluck out my eyelashes, lash by lash

and stitch them into curtains

my eyebrow hairs you can scatter like ashes to the wind, let it take me where it will

peel the skin from my skull

and hang it in a tree at the bottom of the garden

something will eat it

pour my soupy brain out through my open ear canal

and use it for pickles and preserves

 

when all you have left is the bone of me

wash me tenderly and with grace

light a candle in my base

and leave me to the fates.


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