Tuesday, April 12, 2016

The poem Shapeshifter

The following poem was written by Jessica Colker to her husband and just found again before the memorial service for her in PHL on April 9, 2016. As you can see from this poem, Jess's death was not just a loss to her husband, but to all who will miss the authenticity with which she lived her life.

Shapeshifter

If I could slip
inside your skin,
slipper my feet into your soles, 
shrug on the heavy leather of your hide, 
What might reside there?
What tickle and brush of fur -
the surge and slack of muscle
against tendon, against bone?
What shape may our body take?

If I could merge
the roadways and tunnels of our vessels, 
tangle the highways of veins, 
reroute our arterial surge, 
What shunted path may our blood make?
What fresh map, inked red, inked blue,
May be drawn with you?
What foreign soil may our footfalls grace?

Tell me
If I could cradle your heart
within mine, flap in time
with the wings of your valves,
what thrust of love may we make?
Your heartbeat -
slow, definitively assuredly slow,
and mine with the quickened pace
of something startled,
what music might we create?
What rhythm may ricochet
from this eight-chambered part?

And what if
I could pour my emptiness into yours -
trust your hollow spaces with mine?
What places could nothingness find -
unnamed rooms, unnamed streets,
the vast span of constellations and solar dust?
How must we travel these empty ranges?
With the blood with flesh with teeth,
with the timbre of our trembling cords, 
and together, my fingers gloved within yours.

To Brian Melito from Jessica Colker

Now maybe you can see why we'll all miss her.

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