Sarah Huddleston (16)
Eulogy to my Dead Body(s)
Under the trees lay the body(s). I saw
a hundred deaths shrouded in a gossamer
sheath where stomachs became homes to
hyacinths, where necks cracked against
stone altars until blood ran like golden
ichor. Here, each body is remembered
in fragments, splinters. Here, Orpheus
sings funeral hymns into hollow mouths,
lapping tongues, fingers the gnarled roots
reaching for what comes after life, fantasies.
Under the trees lay the body(s) cutting into
the earth where Leto mourns her children
on her knees, dreams up sadness under
my body(s) split along the spine, white and
yellow skin stretching apart until clouded eyes
separate them, one half as sufficient as the other.
There are no souls here, just body(s). There are no
memories here, just body(s). No more children,
no more tears, just empty mouths, itching throats.
I do not see myself, only body(s). I saw my body(s)
naked, shivering. I saw my body(s) making homes
for moss out of the dips in rusted joints. I saw
my body(s) that were no longer sanctuaries.
I saw my mouths spread open in want of
pomegranate seeds, my body(s) groaning in
hunger. I saw trees watching over my body(s)
in pieces--they want my body(s) to be in pieces,
each one drained and wrung-through and barren.
I saw my body(s) tattered, sprawling.
Someday, I will look at my body(s)
and see how each bone craves the touch
of another and watch as dryads weep over
my hundred body(s) waiting
to be reborn.
Sarah Huddleston is a junior at Barrington High School. She is involved in her school’s newspaper and literary magazine, and her writing has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. When she is not writing, Sarah dances ballet and enjoys baking and eating an array of vegan desserts.
Eulogy to my Dead Body(s)
Under the trees lay the body(s). I saw
a hundred deaths shrouded in a gossamer
sheath where stomachs became homes to
hyacinths, where necks cracked against
stone altars until blood ran like golden
ichor. Here, each body is remembered
in fragments, splinters. Here, Orpheus
sings funeral hymns into hollow mouths,
lapping tongues, fingers the gnarled roots
reaching for what comes after life, fantasies.
Under the trees lay the body(s) cutting into
the earth where Leto mourns her children
on her knees, dreams up sadness under
my body(s) split along the spine, white and
yellow skin stretching apart until clouded eyes
separate them, one half as sufficient as the other.
There are no souls here, just body(s). There are no
memories here, just body(s). No more children,
no more tears, just empty mouths, itching throats.
I do not see myself, only body(s). I saw my body(s)
naked, shivering. I saw my body(s) making homes
for moss out of the dips in rusted joints. I saw
my body(s) that were no longer sanctuaries.
I saw my mouths spread open in want of
pomegranate seeds, my body(s) groaning in
hunger. I saw trees watching over my body(s)
in pieces--they want my body(s) to be in pieces,
each one drained and wrung-through and barren.
I saw my body(s) tattered, sprawling.
Someday, I will look at my body(s)
and see how each bone craves the touch
of another and watch as dryads weep over
my hundred body(s) waiting
to be reborn.
Sarah Huddleston is a junior at Barrington High School. She is involved in her school’s newspaper and literary magazine, and her writing has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. When she is not writing, Sarah dances ballet and enjoys baking and eating an array of vegan desserts.