My head full of night, my hands

full of water, my hair full of dreams
that rush away, faster than fish

in the river— My clavicle like a book
some unseen hand holds open at the spine,

my fingers curled around another’s—
My eyes two almond hulls now anchored

in this face— And if we’ve met before
and will meet yet again, I’ll listen

for those currents that sound most
like light careening off an edge—

 

In response to Via Negativa: Carnivore.

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