atrium (2007)

Before time there was
only my shell and

pulsing

inside
the fleshy vacuole inside where,

pulsing,

I waited to see what time would
hold for my fluid existence

suspended in what I now know to be
the atrium of blindness where

pulsing

I could see blindly      only
what sights were created for me       especially,

the cosmic particles floating quietly
overhead in the gleaming red

pulsing,

the dazzling
lights which marked time,

but not the passing of thousands of years
in the lit sky

pulsing,

in the globular kind of
entrapment, meant only as a harbour
before the unsettling waves of the outside

in this atrium was my shell, my lungs shell

pulsing,

in this atrium was the continual gloom
and sticky comfort of being held close,
closely held by the strings of an internal universe,

held here for an unknown duration, blindly,
so that I could know the

pulsing

raw reds that were,
before the greens and pinks of my Mother.

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