Thursday, January 18, 2007

Untitled

Footsteps on the veranda,
Hushed whispers,
Acacias lightly rustle
in the sticky night wind.

The door opens,
shuts,
opens,
shuts.
The mystery deepens
in the emptiness
of my bedroom.

A knot in my neck,
A lead ball in my stomach,
A sudden snapping
beneath my sternum
indicates the presence
of one,
simple word,
large enough
to be swallowing me whole:

Want.

Latency or Thousand Year Old Egg

Look around! Look around!
Every thing's still,
frozen in the Earth,
hard, immovable.

Like a buried egg
Laid in the ground
for weeks,
you emerge
black, gelatinous—
a delicacy!—
in your 1,000-year-old
incarnation.