Chrg
Anxieties | Izzy Deutsch | ceramics
Chrg by Emily Fleming
A weathered red sweater
walked down a dim dirty stairway, on a dark day in December
“Sweaters can’t walk.”
No but they can shake.
They shake with wasps
That’s what makes them walk
The buzz inside it never stops
White noise with such force
To deafen with silence
like the slam of a door
Wings bat the inside
like salt on a sore
To fester in such silence
Red rotting wool in such rosy essence
Profound is the one who pulls at the threads
Watch them unravel the frail ugly nest
into yarn string of veiny flesh
Oh how the shell is caressed
Nothing but strained glances
Dispersed buzzes leave tender ashes
Of dust where there once was carcass
Stare at the shadow hanging in the passage
Wanton hollow with warmth long forgotten
Walls omit all but the absence
In the absence of silence, noise is an abscess
From the dispersed swarm there comes another
Wool will waste away on steps of pavement
“And what sweater?”
Why, the sweater that once walked
