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BLINK

There was a massive clap then. There was the gonging. The house walls ran with juicing fluid, blooming bulbs as they rained down. The room was all around the mother bulging color. Her hips and lips and eyes had spread so wide she seemed a portal or filled with blank. There was a stink there swaddled on her washing. It called the birds into her brain. They burst from bejeweled cocooning patterns encrusted on the walls, the air, her flesh. Their wings were metal. No one. What. Their language flew in all at once together in one chirping endless chain head-on into her. When now. They stuffed their way on down inside her face, through her throat and belly and her ass, and from each point thereon outward, while at her cusp the air around the mother’s liquid shone. Somewhere in the leak the leak was speaking. Its words weren’t words but numbers, coiled in wads. Curds of syntax made in old names. The speech made the house’s liquid cloudy. In the liquid there were eggs: one from each bird incubated and there laid into the mother’s open bruises and her blood, such swelling bite marks of the laying written on her massive lungs and tongue and gums and glands and hair and gait and back and lard.

The colors screwed across the sky.

They screwed into the sky and through the sky and there before it.

The flesh from all holes fell.

It fell into the holes and through holes and held them.

Where there were no holes, more holes were made.

The holes were made until where all before there had been no holes there were the holes now, so that all holes forever were surrounded, like a feeling.

There were then no other words.

BLINK

The film was blinking.

BLINK

BLINK

The space was blinking.

BLINK

There was the sound.

There was the face.

The eye behind the face came open.

BLINK

BLINK

BLINK

BLINK

BLINK

BLINK

BLINK

Now it was everything, the eye.

Inside the house, the floor was inclined

The entry room was very long

Against the far wall, just slight out of reach, a small oblong shape sat cold

It was seated on a cube marked with a white plaque with white letters I could not read

The floors around the cube were very slick

They seemed to need to pull me to the center

A scrim of paper-colored water poured from beneath me where I touched the ground

I came near and touched the shape

I rubbed against the shape and rubbed it

The shape was any shape but here had one specific of which I cannot name the name

Where the shape touched on my skin its face made new over the new

Layers laying over old holes, bruises, smooth

I felt the air turn inside-out

All I wanted was for this to stop

I did not want to change again already

I could not sit the shape back down

In chrysalis the rooms made lotion

I threw up white

For many days I lived forever

I felt the door under my face

I could see many thousand other shapes inside the shape’s face

Any shape at all

Inside the shapes someone was bleating my old language

I was not the child and not the father or the mother or the dark

I held the shape against my sternum

The celebration lights were gray

So much time passed and I’d done nothing

I hadn’t even moved my arms

Through all the lives I’d felt cruise through me I was nowhere

It was snowing

Here the air was made of such light that it made the light already trundled on the air go curved

Slowing flexed out around the edges of my vision so that in this light here I saw the sky under the sky

It with our old names imprinted on it peeling

The sky wide with bodies hung from it in troves, fat pock-marked purses of slopping people

Colors not of how the skin had been in living, but the current state of their decay

Some of the bodies’ globes glistened picked apart by gobs of sight and gnats grow fat off of the black-blistered ankles charred apart and caking pink

Among them, he who’d lived inside me for such stinging time and time regardless

Who’d therein eaten of my body and swaddled up a body of his own

Years in rooms where I could not see what he was doing, what he would make of what he had made of parts of us

Knowing without knowing

How I could hardly therein stand

The ages speaking loud inside my mind and bending over in my body

Ash of ash and ashes’ ashes

The skin around my scalp and shoulders curling a crown out

Endless foreheads

Each punched in through warm and of no hold

You were one of those among it