I am pulled into my back. Nubs of wings want to sprout.
It fucking hurts to grow wings out of this calcified chest cage.
Pushing, through flesh, wounded thin at the surface. Sap oozes, trickles down and pools, a little ocean, a salty bath for all the micro-organisms living in the small of my back.
The body absorbs.
The sea evaporates and is renewed,
one inch less.
Millions live, millions die. This goes on for a long time.
The salt tang, the liquid pooling, the body absorbing,
water sliding, sap oozing, forming eddies.
Taste snaps me back: this is a spiral pulling in on itself.
Something vital is being drained while I lie, face down in this cool, sunlit room. Rest does not follow this waiting.
There is a depth,
and a wide open sky,
a golden field stretching to horizons.
I need to walk it. On and on, through the day, sipping water, warmer than my breath, little laps to make it last.
Ahhhh, another blast in the middle of my mouth, stretching me thin into a wisp of cloud.
Vapour calls to vapour, clouds coalesce, densify
and rain over me,
my naked body, lying flat on a field of rape yellow, blue flax in my mind’s eye,
tongue out, waiting to receive.