Why are you a parasol carnage of hearts?...Fire to hearth; wavering.

Why do you flicker so loudly?

Evey pronunciation proclaims vowels and blood, and elusive feats of things unanchored.

 

Can I tell you that within my sewer I hear ocean sounds?

Loud whispers. Evening portals…Long distances made short.

I take for granted what I feel from neighborly beasts.

Eating goldfish beneath warm sweaters of wool...Smiling sheep; quiet wolves.

I dare you to. I dare you to glossed over gleam of glass to shatter...

 

My pen.

 

River flowing from the indefinite layer beneath deaths arrival in breath.

To live each day to die. Die each day to live.

The soul awaits a form to birth a bloom.

I have dreams of these fields.

Time and space are my hands.

Somewhere else between carousels.

Another ride to another. Between moments.

Through flickering lanterns.

 

© Mimi Caneda Mata