Featured Poetry: Gayane Haroutyunyan

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Pain

Gayane Haroutyunyan

By the time I arrived
it was in the works already.
I never saw the plan,
and the blueprint, he said,
was at the engineer’s office
speaking its mind,
perfecting itself,
drinking Colombian coffee.

Blocks and bricks
would not work, he said.
He needed my teeth, gums,
and muscles for the brilliant
circular foyer
and that he did not mind
the smell of rotting flesh
for the bedroom.

I did not object because
you can’t argue with those
who really know
what they want to build
and build it.
So I took off all my clothes
let the knife take
all my favorite parts
all my favorite scars.

So, in a long time
that remarkable structure was built.
I’d come watch people, workers,
doing things that decipher life
for them
but really are just pure labor
and I’d smell the smells and
touch the parts once mine.

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