Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

Obits(2)

That shirt from 3rd Grade
The shirt descended into shreds. It had been well loved-worn. Washed every night to be worn everyday. The shirt was disappeared by a mother. We will always wonder what happened to it- where it went. We hope it is currently with that lost teddy bear in the afterlife. There is an empty spot in the drawer it used to live in. It is outlived by its wearer, somehow.

This is the obituary of a bullet. That killing idea is dead. It was shot. Its purpose has been eliminated by the idea of war tactics. We alive have not felt its presence, only its absence. It tore through dimensions, through moral dimensions. How do we talk about something that is dead? In niceties? In harsh plainness? This bullet is outlived by no one or everyone. It is not the death of death, no ideas, just one bullet lost to a war that has already claimed so many other bullet’s lives. The bullet leaves behind three children and a grieving wife. It leaves the gun empty. It reliquary fashion it will show itself. Its corpse has already had numerous miracles attributed to it. This bullet served its country. Actually it is MIA, never recovered, empty casing. It went off target and its passing has gone unnoticed.