OBLITERATION

I mean to gravel every path of my beginnings,
And concrete any pore which bleeds
With the minor scrape of nails or thorns
Or insects feasting off of me;
Capillaries sanded clean and epoxied without a hint of evidence –
Sand blasted with shaved lettered corners
Like a tombstone withered by the rain;
Perplexing to the scrutiny of those who venture past my epitaph
A stumbling block for jaded biographers,
Suited in unchangelled roots,
Who etch their mark on those like me
To fill their published works
Like carrion, pincering flesh from bones
As they attempt to fathom every vein and artery
God has taken from me at my final breath;
Before the first fly larvas on my skin…
I will leave a steel mesh lather’s grill
Beneath the concrete of my origins,
Which no pick or ax can penetrate;
Leaving just a residue of pebbles
To puzzle all of those who seek to find me
In my father’s sperm or my mother’s womb.

Ken Siegelman
Brooklyn Poet Laureate