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.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
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.
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.
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