A Throbbing Speck
A poem, sorta.
I’m a living being.
I move through space.
I climb and crawl, inhale.
I squint under blinding rays.
On dim mornings, my eyelids unfurl.
I rely on elements, compounds.
I wither in the absence of nutrients.
I, a living organism, am easily disabled.
My organs fatigue, my entrails break down.
I’m atomized, ground down and smashed into fine grain.
I take pleasure.
The creamy redolence of lilies thrum in my midst.
The breeze pets me.
I run hot water over my face.
Water gushes from the shower head.
I’m a sophisticated animal.