My names for you are many and moving
you are the stillness before an earthquake
the shivering stars
the shock of cold water on a scalp,
we are staring each into each
our pupils dark as blood emanating from our bodies
spreading out like a sky turning to night.
So this is exile:
your eyes unpouring the tears of your people
ghost mother
Your name is blossoming the red of centuries
fast echoing marks of infant’s cry
I am naked, face slowing erasing itself in the mirror
a vague humming of distant engines dusts over the paisley of my brain
my pages leave blurs of white as they migrate about the room
The water is coming in.
By the time my letters reach you,
the walls are crumbling into their inky components and
you are already gone.
The contour points of your body can be pinned like insects with charcoal branches,
you transmute once more into my earth
When you hit the ground I love you, then as always the umber of your skin
with the tightness of a drumhead
a thousand wells springing forth and drying,
cracking with heat.
The prompt was THIS COOL FILM also THIS ONE.
ily
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