Posted By Paul Hostovsky on September 23, 2008

I remember a moment
when I was 5
and peeing under a tree
and thinking about
life

and about bodies–
my body
emptying itself
under the body
of that tree,
the huge

house of it
as I looked up
through the muscular
branches which seemed
as thick around as grown
men,

and I remember
looking down and seeing
directly across from me
another body–
a tiny black
foraging
body–

I was still peeing
as I followed it
with my eyes
traversing the vast
mountain range of bark,

and carrying with it
a little something
to eat
on its back
or maybe
in its mouth.

I couldn’t
see its mouth but I knew–
I remember being 5 and knowing–
that it had a mouth,
that it had to have a mouth
because everything has a mouth
because the body is fair
game for other bodies
with mouths,

and I remember thinking
this included
my body,
and feeling
all of a sudden
very empty

but also very
wise. More wise
than hungry. I wasn’t
hungry at all at that
particular
remarkable
moment.

Categories: Poetry
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