openings

openings

 

remember, you were born

an unspecified point

 

wire line across the palm,

you wondered what would happen—

wrap around the wire

 

remember—the puncture

points do not end, project

through to depth poles

through to recurring birth

 

air mixes with blood in the palm,

between divine aberrations

 

where noses in the grass where

there is only grass

 

black, twitching points dance

across field surface

 

merge, become one

for a moment then

expand, break apart

 

fly far away

to come back

 

viscous lines outline

familiar shapes within reach

to space beyond

limits

 

at each opening,

a line is a tether,

or conveys air for travel

 

is how deep you breathe

through the aperture

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