Volume 3 Number 1 • Spring 2011
He was several lifetimes of eating:
an obese man spread on a roadside bench.
You couldn't miss him—his belly
looked like China on a map. He
stared at his gut with a look of astonishment
as if it harbored evil quintuplets who
were making demands he was unable to fulfill.
I could tell he wanted to be rid of them.
Have you ever imagined how it would look
—all the food that has ever passed through your lips,
gathered together on one enormous table?
“Were you drunk when you got that?” “Did it hurt?”
“What are you going to do when you get old?”
—plus the usual caveats about lasting forever.
Forever? True, a tattoo will be with you
longer than your car, spouse, friends, maybe your children;
as close to permanence flesh will ever come. Oh,
to be indelible this side of the stone! Your own
Mark of Cain; your beloved's name; the soul's signature
engraved on your skin: a singular cartouche
and you its only cipher.
Joseph Dorazio's poetry has appeared in Spoon River Poetry Review, Boston University's Clarion Journal, Chest, Nerve Cowboy, Philadelphia Poets, The Maynard, and elsewhere. His “Remains to Be Seen” was a finalist in Brighthill Press' 2010 chapbook competition. Mr. Dorazio lives and writes in the suburbs of Philadelphia, PA.