Deconstruction

I want to slough off my body.
Pluck out my crooked eyes, roll them
Like pretty marbles to my children.
I want to spit out my crooked teeth, store them
In a moss-lined wooden box.
My hair will be blown away like dandelions
Snagged on holly for bird nests;
My limbs left to melt in hollows
My skin pressed between linen and lavender
My muscles taken out like coals and rested
In the shallows of a brook.

Remaining:
A pure bronze bar of light
A million atoms that become
Ash trees, granite ridges, human minds, river deltas –
I am everywhere:
An idea, dispersed into words
Written on pages, in letters, on skin
To be read, undaunted, undefeated
Undimmed
Again, and again, and again.