Stone Telling

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Let me show you you

by Dominik Parisien

Show me what you are
Mantis-limbed, your serrated fingers
open me from neck to groin, pry
ribs apart and spread them
like a pair of fleshy wings, like velvet
drapes that stain red.

There isn't much here
Inside, you see no lungs, liver, heart
as you enter, push invisible organs about
and make a seat of my hips. Spine to spine
you force bones outwards for your comfort,
close my curtain-ribs shut.

I want to see what you see
You press behind my eyes,
push nails through my pupils.

Not that different after all
Your eyes through holes that were my eyes,
you focus on familiar sights, see the world
just a little skewed, barely off-center.

I know you now
Satisfied, you climb out,
shake clinging pieces off your clothes.
Later, you will show how we are all the same
by using your words
to write me — you.

Dominik Parisien's first published poem appeared in issue 7 of Stone Telling. Since then, his poetry has appeared in inkscrawl, Goblin Fruit, Through the Gate and Star*Line. He is an intern for Cheeky Frawg Books.