Nine of Cups Reversed

I’m learning to sit still, 
a literal study 
in stillness, 
something my brain treats as venom—
the gifts extracted
resemble infants,
an abstract shiver dampens their heartbeat
a fire burns dirty in their chest, 
the stench of jasmine and ash, disintegrates—
phosphenes and phosphorus
bleach teeth/
retinas twitch
to the tune of silence
eyes in my eyes
spill on my lap
a prayer of syllables caught in 
the spine, 
wings stuck, windless 
as I plummet unaware 
of the many arms and many mouths
ready to catch my fall
to simplify:
I am deep in my body, 
my thoughts are thoughts are thoughts
Jesus isn’t near, but I am
I touch my tongue to salivate
I sit with myself to forget
the past that haunts, 
the future that worries
I want the metric of now
a synth serenading my hands to quit pretending they know what they should be touching
I am all out of versions of what I swore was me
%d bloggers like this: