Corded Life
Poetry
Published in
Oct 28, 2024
Reach down in the dark, into the layers,
pluck them like elastic-band strife along the
strings
of this dull artist’s knife
(Static-fuzz on your fingers
reaching down
through those layers
of corded life)
Let me pluck this string, strum this fibre,
let these sinews sing their choirs
It’s all there —
— don’t you see?
I am you and you are me
and together we are
this cosmic mess
the world professed
to care about
while running from itself
We won’t let them run now
Reach down in the dark, into the layers,
sever the strands you find amiss,
and rework the weave
until your lungs
can breathe
again
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