there’s a plethora of ways to morph a vessel of blood and bones into a noun - like dipping each part in gasoline and letting what’s begotten after it’s struck with fire take it through a naming rite. or drowning its entirety in a mass - endless, blue and watch each drop absorb and carry its weight, who says there are only so many names you can adorn a body with. i listen to each note birthed by this body; the falls, the rise, the art these two can create when knitted together. there’s a reflection each of my parts see in the other - chaos, peace, in pieces. I listen to them as if to wait for a whisper that’ll say: you are what’s in between life & nothingness. The destination traced by the track of your tears/a dissected cadaver of your fears. this is where a ceremony of names ends, where the ashes of a house rises into hope - home.