PROMPT
Black Seed: A Prose Poem
4th Friday Prompt: Let the Image Lead You
Who am I?
Where do I begin,
and where do I end?
There, where my imagination laces the bottoms of the silver clouds, underlining the approach of the witching hour
Or there, hidden in the sand, where I lost a turquoise earring watching you walk away,
its mate now sitting forlornly in a box,
shut away from light and breeze
Or perhaps I end right here, where the molecules cease to be part of my body,
this body that sometimes feels so alien,
something that needs to be coaxed
And if this is where I end, then where do these memories come from, these memories of love,
these memories of loss,
these memories bookended by time I haven’t seen
The circularity of time collapses in upon itself, the far-flung ideas of ‘ending’ and ‘beginning’ suctioning their tendrils together at high velocity until
Everything is one tight little node, a bunch of cells with one nucleus alone, and that nucleus a black seed, a seed blacker than any black I have seen…
