Two-too
Clean and sterile-
eyes-
cataract and contract,
sting with bitter solutions.
of build-up, calcification of old deposits-
there grows lye.
isolation is cleansing
by promise of reward,
acidic seconds feel like
first wounds and kisses.
in sand and silt,
by narrow slit or gill
does any thing survive?
the tiny hairs,
metal and maddening stone,
there is no voice or moan outside.
out or in complete
thoughts shift weight,
in a pendulum.
Hearts of palms, beastly as apes
beat their fanned fronds
in the autumn air.
with life, preserved in pits
outside these pillowed walls
pane-less as this space is.
Artwork by Austin Osman Spare [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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