written by: ilex fenusova
I think that if I had bared my skin to another heaven
things might have turned out differently.
I wouldn't be using red shifts
to count notches, minutes, seconds, breaths.
I wouldn't be using your orbit as a compass.
and in the meantime I doze half-in
half-out of primordial water;
limbs sleek with salt like a lunar crust.
clutches of lichen tangle my hair.
the pleiades were gods,who,
weary of us, molted from their human encumbrances,
taking to the sky;
faint and unfettered by our inadequate maps
and rural mythologies.
still, they only know what we tell them.
pyramids were built for such things.
feathered serpents rumbled and uncoiled
commemorating the agriculture of our subtext.
who knows through what dust their gazes now sluice.
me, I lie very still at some event horizon
with legs submerged to the knee,
belly glistening like a pale cave fish.
Should have kept a Rolodex of publications but hindsight is 20/20. Items seen here have not been published before.