MiPO 2005

I saw this through the violence that made it take place and we—at least most of the rest of the people in the audience—were always thinking of you there, but first things first: what came like a shock to all our falling. You were asked to do something and then that something became part of you or you, wasn’t that the way it was, and if it wasn’t it wasn’t. I can only continually think of their flayed faces, how hard it must’ve been to get the rest of the flesh from the cheekbones, say—

Maybe there were other reports but no-one saw you falling. No-one wanted specifically to kill you, to take your face. It’s hard to be reduced to and remembered through certain partings. I have been and am watching you, from the first day.

I liked a little mouse because it was my friend in the burning. When they took the rest of you and me out and called us long and thought we would burn like meat and were right I knew they were wrong, because I was a child. They were simple, simply wrong. Still, I hated to be burned. I hated too when you were burned. My mouse said Yes.

I didn’t like the way we, among the feelings, were left more or less alone. Now I know why some hunt others and end them. It was included in the maps they taught us in school, except they couldn’t then see my and their own bodies burning in the end.

I am sick of the burning, I made it. I am anyone, I hate to forget so long. I did what others thought. It was basic action, blurred in purity. Fire comes from the pretty mouths, clean. I love what I am, in the flames.