Amongstment
Mark Scott is a recent graduate of the Jazz Studies program at the University of North Texas. He enjoys writing and is grateful to have the opportunity to share his writings with others.
To be screwed between the body and the capsule:
to be altogether foregone—quantumnal
mornings that shrink beneath the moon’s
scrutiny: a hefty log thrown into a chipper
some place where birds chirp the worms up
and every day is cold, the rest of the universe
lost in an aimless thought, then captivated,
suddenly made aware of the jutted wood
perforating its abdomen, its cascading into softer,
fractal pieces, the time it ceases—drifting
further into the annals of last pages, autopsy
reports, postcards, report cards, passports, fore-
words and certificates of birth, playgrounds; the capsule
at hand, under the tongue: tugged
by the mind, the liver, bladder; helping some-
body, the body digests—mulling through
what’s put into it, around it, whether it
is good, the something shoved into something
else longed for, or chastised, following the aimless
screw—between the leaf and the shoe, a moment
and another moment—running for mother’s
frantic hand a flag in the wind
as the train runs faster than the air
that dries your eyes—between a life
and another life—the carpet,
the ottoman, or merely between.