O EVERYTHING GOES BLACK
by Katie Ford
A pattern on the back of my eyelid coils like a fingerprint, I made
a mistake, it is not my own. The blood up between my eyes, I can't see.
I sit between people, between pillars of the cathedral between
which the immaculate spreads her blue-sleeves into as much sky
as there is. Small blue lights edge the church and the eyeless Christ hangs,
his sockets darkening into shaded tombs. Darkness coiling,
my eyes coiling, a wind with sand in it scrolling up and down
a body, hiding that body until it could be anyone, and is.
Even whom I do not live with I live with now. Don't say I don't
speak to you: I speak to you.
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1 comment:
Oh my, that is beautiful. I really like how the thoughts sort of wind.
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