Ana C. H. Silva
HAVING ONCE BEEN SPLIT OPEN
After Max Ernst's Sacred Conversation
Woman on the Left
Having once been split open
sliced open with a bold knife
black thread passed through holes
of my flesh
made by a blood slicked needle
not completely healed
open to the world
open to love
a feeling of being un shut
seamed but un whole
my scar tugs at itself when I stretch
my belly
I know there is danger
who knows what will come out
slime a broom parts of insects broken buttons
feathers dust
nothing — any more — as luscious
as my children
steel circles my calves
when I pause mid step to think
maybe I am made of
just filaments shadows interstices
not flesh bone blood and something called me
back to contents
Woman on the Right
Having once been sliced open
—for mirror-twins, it turned out—
oneness, wholeness
are suspect
I believed in the soul right away
when I saw them
remarkably similar bodies
perfectly distinct energies
one of earth and fire
the other of air and water
and what is my other double?
I might be a bird
Don't be fooled by the smart black shoes that pinch my feet
or my conventional skirts
The space above my neck and shoulders
is just sky