In my dreams, I return. We are frantic.
My back meets the wall. The pain
takes tiny, mincing steps up my vertebrae,
but our pelvises click together like magnets,
like jigsaw pieces interlocking, hard.

This is bigger than us. It's not
earth-bound, not carbon-based.
There are no words for it, no sentences.
Language is a human failure.
We've long since left our bodies behind.

When it's over, I don't know what makes us.
I don't know the atoms of my form.
I'm just a shape that is waiting,
conspiring, wanting to be angelic again.

10/02/2005

Posted on 10/03/2005
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair