A
tenant has moved into the space
Between
my crepe-thin meninges
Without
any prior notice.
He
knows to hold tight the flaps
Around
my head, and occasionally, gives it a shake –
As
if gripping a colander with leaping grains of rice,
Allowing
each stick to fall into a gauze of steel,
And
then to rise again on the flick of a second launch;
Like
lobes of my brain, bobbing up and down
In
the sterile world of my skull, each time
My
foot touches the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment