Resuscitate in my sleep

"maybe the solitude
distended eventually
empty rooms among synapses

“we must examine our pain.”

(no, not only planarians,
after decapitation, regrow their heads,
but keep their memory)

“we must look at people as if they were lines and protuberances.”

these unending strips,
the insight without perception and,
once in a while,
the butterfly collector’s hands

“geometry keeps us bolt upright.”

now it is known that nudity
is a kind of going upstream,
visible parts that make other parts invisible,
as in those scary
stories
with planes disappearing from the radar
and, when they alight,
after decades of roam,
the skeletons are still holding
hot paper cups,

the random movement of disclosure
and secret,
when we conquer,
we domesticate
and we bend
to our laws."

Rita Chirian