S. Patterson: You're Dying So Well

Photo: Joanna C. Valente

The art of transforming into a tree

I.
You’re dying so well smelling of shit and piss 
Which I won’t remember because I won’t remember you 
Though we spent days together with newspapers 
Eating cantaloupe ants up fingers little soldiers 
You held intestines looked at skies little soldier birds 
We read the funnies in the morning now I’m going
To watch your daughter cry in parking lots I’m going 
To be uncomfortable and leave her don’t worry
We’ll wrap you in linen and build a monument 
In the middle of a field


II.
One of your daughters will clean your house 
Hide away all good bits of you in closets 
I’ll get your letter opener and book on birds missing its cover
I learned you a graveyard present when bodies lose blood
Doctors use saline to prevent shock I’d give you my ribs 
To prevent shock put your stomach back but you’re too full of metal 
Too empty of organs because of trees I used to love trees 
Used to climb them with my brothers used to love metal fast things 
The aesthetics of all you used to do it was so fast you didn’t let us know
You didn’t let us say goodbye I remember you beside me 

III.
I asked your doctor about hearts
He took one out of his pocket wrapped in a white kerchief and showed it me

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S. Patterson is a Toronto-based writer. Their work has appeared in publications such as  Plenitude Magazine, Electric Literature, Minola Review, Occulum, Sinking City Review and Rag Queen Periodical. Find a selection at: https://www.saralpatterson.com