Myth of Cosmos
It stands outside of myself, something round, flecked with spit, like a moon«
growing out of my nails, moon« of phenomenal lactescence.
I push my head into the roundess & a cloud« is my face
& I see particles of mist« floating away.
There’s nothing I can do or limb or crook of elbow, inutile
& something is growing under my tongue, a word, a love«
A deer falls from my eyes, rolls down my cheek, & I name
the cloud« with the overgrown tongue
& a brush of flowers falls on my face
to toe I’m blessed, blessing
painted on my nails my palms I d«ance, palm flashing thigh buckling
silvered belly stars.
Monica Mody is the author of two chapbooks, and her work can also be found in journals such as the Boston Review, Wasafiri, Upstairs at Duroc, pyrta, Lantern Review, and Nether, among others. Her first book, KALA PANI, is forthcoming from 1913 Press later this year. Monica has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Notre Dame and is currently a doctoral candidate in East-West Psychology at the California Institute of Integral Studies.