Recreate

In class they tell us to bend on one side
Like a banana, looking at its feet.
The body is a faceless curve now
It has nothing more to hide, with its ends bent
Forming a clean cut where it used to split.
It can speak clear to the world now
It wants nothing from it
Just a small space
Underneath the ground
To live in quiet
And rest for a while
Watching little figures float
On the surface of the earth
While he can recreate himself
Away from dirt,
Away in time,
Happily curved around a thought
There, where the light can't touch it
Its ghost of love
That could last an eternity.