I washed my brain and hung it to dry
In a steady breeze on a black clothes line.
I put a blanket down where it looked as if
The sun would be for a few hours more.
I stood by a long way off, on a tower,
On a rock, on a rooftop made of glass.
I remembered half of bible history in reverse,
I watched myself go back to being a romance
Between two hellbent cells.
I followed an earthworm as far into its veriform
Home as it would let me go.
I followed ants carrying nearly invisible separate
Parts of something they wanted to carry back.
I no longer had a face, if I ever did.
The angle of the sun showed me shadows of things
I'd never seen.
I looked at my hands through a magnifying lens
Long enough for smoke to emerge.
I wouldn't need that brain again, I left it
For birds, in lieu of words, and seeds.
To read more poems by Dara Wier, please click here to purchase JUBILAT 4