Final Reduction

My hands weigh too much.
I am a limited girl, unable to hold onto autumn
because of my August collapse.
It was the weight, the purge
and my fervor for you.

My coarse, glacial body is thinning with bad circulation.
I am dividing myself, like the blinds I pull to the side
to monitor the revision of trees, and their version of elation.

I’ll sever my unnecessary appendages,
scratch off the blemishes, and when the nurses
do their cleaning, just after frost, they will interpret me
for something cold, dried up

One nurse will clutch my slightness,
capture me for her son’s collection
and when she empties her pockets to sleep for the night,
she’ll forget my purpose, as I sashay,
skull first into the trash.

-- Melissa DeGezelle