I want to write of what is sealed:

names of the nameless, stories of
the dying, what's inside the heart-shaped
box before its opened, the meaning,

the meaning, the meaning

of everything.

I want to undress into light,
hold the uncovered wrist to its mark,
my mouth to the fire.

There are words for opening:
rupture, break out, disclosure.

In a bowl, the size of an egg,
I dip my wings and write-

the ink flows over.

1 comment:

Pearl said...

unexpected juxtapositions.