From Eoagh
Signaling Through Space Without Wires
Music is ground, you
figure, that moves swiftly past me
in this bitter light. Fixed
as if into the wall I
conjure you outside my hands, all
sound, the scape of it
burns
my
skin
like
sun
I
let it happen
as I let you lean, crawl, lurch
in my life and waver, putting
feelers everywhere, sweetening the room
a little, pleasing and paining all at once
the teasing rituals of the telephone a
game we (didn’t)(want)(do) couldn’t
play. The
ground shifts under me.
Without
moving I turn only in my head,
signaling through space without
wires to you, deaf.
© Alexandra Grilikhes 2005
Music is ground, you
figure, that moves swiftly past me
in this bitter light. Fixed
as if into the wall I
conjure you outside my hands, all
sound, the scape of it
burns
my
skin
like
sun
I
let it happen
as I let you lean, crawl, lurch
in my life and waver, putting
feelers everywhere, sweetening the room
a little, pleasing and paining all at once
the teasing rituals of the telephone a
game we (didn’t)(want)(do) couldn’t
play. The
ground shifts under me.
Without
moving I turn only in my head,
signaling through space without
wires to you, deaf.
© Alexandra Grilikhes 2005
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