A Professional Weeper by Mary Ocher
I will not accept to see the body
The body is subordinate
You should cover it up
Instead of stripping it down
Being entirely, completely,
What are you now?
-I’m now a tree
I carry flowers in my belly
and cinder in my ears
Everybody is making out with everybody
and suddenly they’re all carnal beings.
Time rushing in and out of my veins
Elapsing and collapsing
(I tell myself: Don’t rush to pull the trigger)
and suddenly the smell of it
- suddenly the smell of it
becomes the whole of it
(...You should know where the wind’s blowing -
You are the wind).
I want to be a child
with no future
and an adult
with no traceable past
(All the world's an altar.
And the kids are getting younger every day).
Mary Ocher was born in Moscow, in 1986, grew up in Tel Aviv, is now living in Berlin. Has published poetry recently in UK poetry live, Autumn Leaves, Poetry SZ, Unlikely stories, The Delinquent and The East Westerly Review.