2005-04-15 - 5:17 a.m.
a corona written as a formal assignment for my writing course Even as I sleep,
the night passing softly around me,
wet dreams in a bed
barely large enough for one,
I am grasping for you. I am grasping for you,
struggling to find that
elusive unknown variable, that
fill-in-the-blank explanation, that secret
something to make you legible to me. Something to make you legible to me:
a magic decoder ring
from a box of sugary cereal,
a most prized possession
back when such things were real. Back when such things were real,
I wonder if I would have known you,
would we have shared treehouse secrets and
dime store candy? If we had met as children
would we speak the same language now? Would we speak the same language now
if the ink were drawn from deep within our bodies?
if there was no disconnect
and the words echoed instead
from the vibrations of our flesh? From the vibrations of our flesh,
the heat and cool of our skin,
the scent of our hair,
the colours, the textures, the taste,
we will learn one another's language. We will learn one another's language
as it is spoken through our bodies
unknown to any other
and to commemorate our story,
I will take a quill. I will take a quill
to the red meat of my eyelids
and engrave your name there,
that I may read you
even as I sleep.
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