In my mouth, I hold a small red valise. It is my tongue and I unpack it just like this:
Loan me your body. For a moment. Your coat. Your pants. Everything below the waist. Hand it over.
I’ll slink off my sex like a dress trim
the skin, break the bones to milk-
splinters, toss ribs in thin stalks, grind me into a heap of dust then piece by piece by piece me together again.
to experience color/
To return to you, I bite my lips until bloody. I’ve come to understand that love is like a bloody mouth. The shock of color wiped across a cheek. The taste of your metal ring at the back of me. I imagine your hair arriving again and again bright and unpinned, pawing at my belly. How your fingers find their way into my mouth. I bite the ring as you pull your fingers back.
in the chamber of the dream/
I lift your skirt, in sheets. One by one by one. March my little hands up to your second mouth until your first mouth opens too. All of this happens until you are lit up with sound. Your palms ripple between.
Even in the most lightless of places, I was able to dig up the sensation of sound. How your lips and tongue would carve out the words as you offered them to me. If my eyes were closed while you were speaking, the sounds would crawl to me in patterns of color.
The last time you stretched yourself out across me, we knitted ourselves together and tried to fit into one dress. We laughed, but how terrified we were of coming separated. We wove our voices together and tried to magic our bodies into absorption.
An excerpt from:
The Memory of Color
Danielle Vogel dreams of the narrative that, in its syntactical flickerings, is able to collect and reimagine the damaged body. She is the author of lit and Narrative & Nest. Her writing has most recently appeared in The Denver Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Tarpaulin Sky, and Trickhouse. Her textile scroll-works and ceramic book artifacts, which explore the ceremonial gestation of a manuscript as it is written, have been exhibited in galleries across the country. She is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Denver where she is investigating divinatory poetics, nest architectures, and somatic therapies in relation to syntactical structures. Danielle grew up on the Long Island Sound and currently lives in Denver with her partner, designer and writer, HR Hegnauer.