Sunday, April 1, 2012

That One

...with the flashlight
parted my ribs like
bone blinds and
crawled inside
to search for
 an answer.
The eyes
of all my souls
are watching him—
the elder soul
the child soul,
the mother soul
the poet soul,
indigenous soul
reborn one, all
watching him
all shining
in their own aura,
sometimes apart or
sometimes united,
however they choose.
The indigenous soul is
tracking him with
a hunter’s dance.
Sometimes he thinks
he hears giggles
as he goes
step by step
to the rhythm
of my heart.
The flashlight shows him
nothing but flesh
and strong blood,
flowing through
arteries and veins.

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