Body as Husk, Being as Disease
by Sean William Dever
morning's mist
trudging through
the enclave of shells
roach-like creatures
feelers, antennae,
multi-legged monsters roam
down Boylston
off to work at big-money marketing firms
grab a bite of overpriced happiness
or to buy the newest Nespresso
i found this
molted mass
new/used costume
discarded, no longer in use
this husk, not my own
not as man or monster
me as disease embodied
disease as soft form
eager to breathe
however caustic air
polluted atmosphere
keeps this shell wretched over
once i escaped the container
large metal cylinders
where me and those alike
are tossed
when born without exoskeleton
relocated outside of medical wards
living to wait
and wait to be drained
of our sweet lifeblood
inadequate, unable to bathe in the outside air
our bodies, sacks
means of survival for the roaches
i nestled inside this shell
four tentacles on my upper-half, two on the lower
slid my ballooning form inside
this found, lucrative means of hiding
i wade across the Public Garden
sift through the trash
discarded wrappers, containers
eat the abandoned gelatin quick
they approach
i coil my tentacles back inside
stiff-bodied soft mass
nod and salute my “fellow breed”
but they sniff
and sour their noses
aware of my charade
one thrusts their pincer-like arm
into a space between this home
blood trails behind me
sweet, sugary, glowing florescent yellow
suckle me, a flower blooming, bursting
the cracks in my tentacles seep, deflate
as i hurry this husk away
lead them down the street
until I am backed against an alleyway along Newbury St.
littered with other hollow corpses
the roach-people pry my body open
shell breaks, punctured
they pierce my would-be torso
crack my spine
and spill me out, shucked
i expand
the sunlight stains what’s left of me into the sidewalk
crescent into the air that stains the soft bodies born to die
trudging through
the enclave of shells
roach-like creatures
feelers, antennae,
multi-legged monsters roam
down Boylston
off to work at big-money marketing firms
grab a bite of overpriced happiness
or to buy the newest Nespresso
i found this
molted mass
new/used costume
discarded, no longer in use
this husk, not my own
not as man or monster
me as disease embodied
disease as soft form
eager to breathe
however caustic air
polluted atmosphere
keeps this shell wretched over
once i escaped the container
large metal cylinders
where me and those alike
are tossed
when born without exoskeleton
relocated outside of medical wards
living to wait
and wait to be drained
of our sweet lifeblood
inadequate, unable to bathe in the outside air
our bodies, sacks
means of survival for the roaches
i nestled inside this shell
four tentacles on my upper-half, two on the lower
slid my ballooning form inside
this found, lucrative means of hiding
i wade across the Public Garden
sift through the trash
discarded wrappers, containers
eat the abandoned gelatin quick
they approach
i coil my tentacles back inside
stiff-bodied soft mass
nod and salute my “fellow breed”
but they sniff
and sour their noses
aware of my charade
one thrusts their pincer-like arm
into a space between this home
blood trails behind me
sweet, sugary, glowing florescent yellow
suckle me, a flower blooming, bursting
the cracks in my tentacles seep, deflate
as i hurry this husk away
lead them down the street
until I am backed against an alleyway along Newbury St.
littered with other hollow corpses
the roach-people pry my body open
shell breaks, punctured
they pierce my would-be torso
crack my spine
and spill me out, shucked
i expand
the sunlight stains what’s left of me into the sidewalk
crescent into the air that stains the soft bodies born to die
Sean William Dever is an Atlanta-based poet, educator, and editor with an MFA in Creative Writing with a focus in Poetry from Emerson College. He is a Lecturer of English and Writing Studies at Clayton State University and has recently been published or is forthcoming from io Literary Journal, Levee Magazine, HOOT, Stickers, Unearthed Literary Magazine, Coffin Bell Journal, and Fearsome Critters Literary Magazine and is a nominee for the Best of the Net. Sean is the Poetry Editor of Coffin Bell Journal and the author of the chapbook, “I’ve Been Cancelling Appointments with My Psychiatrist for Two Years Now,” published by Swimming with Elephants Publications.