She was bottomless,
inverted matter, bluish obtuse
where nothingness prayed
to be a solid thing
like hand shadow puppets
depend on brightness to tell their
interesting, unpredictable stories
like snakes released in
gravity-free space cling to
their own twisted bodies
as anchors.
The rhythmic rocking
back and forth re-visiting
the womb, the grave;
the body ticking
like chinese torture,
bloating like an anaerobic,
bacterial wound
just below
the surface.
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