I Wrap my head around
What just happened
Like a python
Around it's prey
It doesn't have a name
Just appearing from mist
Or a shape
Twisting to a stop
I squeeze the air out of it
Peeling it apart
Layer by delicate layer
To see what its made of
A tropical fruit
Skinned with thick and thin
Through its meat
Fertile black seeds
Where does it start
Buried in the sand
How did it end
Washed by the sea
Looking a lot like the moon
Its craters opening now
Spinning black holes
Consumed every ounce of me
My lungs fill
With the smell of it
Low-tide salt air
Blows through my memories
Memories of a space
Never closed
But tied with hands holding
Keys to the mysteries of aloneness
Its turning cogs
In a coppered clockwork
Tick with the slow time
Of stop motion
Each piece of it a rough surface
With smooth underneath
The complicated beauty
Of rendered skin
Closer to the center
Burns the fire of an endless match
The air I squeezed out
Sucks the flame with it
A thin red string
Braided with carbon fiber
Waits for breath of easy ignition
Never to be ignited
The thought of ...never
Putting it back together
Is too dark to think
It crushes the sun
I willingly put it aside
In a drawer next to my bed
With all my other quiet treasures
Waiting for reincarnation
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