Poetica Spontenaium: 10.20.03
This actually from a few years back.
Revisited.
*******
There is no space between us.
This thing
you refer to it as a boundary, a line, a wall
an impermeable membrane that is, as you say
nothing like a vise or fist.
That only allows your whispers within
And keeps my thoughts without
And reminds me that wrapping corpse with a bow still makes it unpretty.
And in keeping things unsaid
denied them palpability.
Spells and curses cannot do harm without voice.
Unspoken things cannot make you hemmorhage.
Prayers without a head bowed in humility cannot be heard, either.
That’s what makes us different.
These words tumble in my belly like sharp stones.
I wash them with oceans of dreams, drowning
hoping that some day they’ll be smooth, and luminous.
Sliding off my tongue on silken threads.
I’ve gotten used to the taste of metal and blood in the meantime.
Smoke fills the space within my ribs made empty
And otherwise filled with liquid memories
There is no space without us.
No we in this wordless castle.
Which shrinks and cages us in binds
until our eyes staring at each other
crush into themselves,
ecstatic in the relief of blindness and night
Our palms caving into avarice
bellies that we’ve been clasping tight.
And a hand reaching out.
A stranger, elsewhere.
Dear ones who no longer recognize us.
In the space without
and the we within
And our pride refusing
to speak.
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