Cross-fertilization

 


How deep is the fissure? Cutting, unseen (Paul Demets)







1) 
 
Specks of light fall on a 
half-empty kettle.
Hearts gently simmer
lips glimmer on the margins 
the gatekeepers are asking for 
digital footprints to serve and 
be served.
 
Again and again
coffee pours in the veins.
The distance between them is 
extending on walls just like shadows.
Nothing to say/to expect.
Drink your tea,
Drink your tea.
 
Half of her face still in darkness as if 
covered by bluish ice.
His painstaking smile becoming a
circumference
a performer paralyzed on the scene 
clutching the microphone to his mouth.
 
 


He wanted to show her:
sounds penetrating the organs 
wrapped in seaweeds.
Cross-fertilise 
Eat your mind
with your mind.
 
Metallic sounds drain
in his clogged lungs,
Sediments oozing from eyes,
her image was the last one
he scanned for.
If he were to die at least
He wouldn’t forget her capitalised name.
A last vowel- slobber and compromised 
sealed his mouth.
 
 
2)
 
I dreamt a yellowish puss.
my eyes were sealed, 
My hand tried to touch them but they
slid on my face in fuzziness.
The attached smile 
barely a smile.
 
A swarm of insects around a wretched building 
I could feel the clouds spreading inside me 
just before the storm started and children 
asked what it was that thing in my eyes.
I folded my hands and cried
hoping the puss would dissolve
and some wild mushrooms would appear 
in that place where I wish it snowed 
for once.
 
But there was a cut, a deep and horrendous cut.
Children stared aghast at it and touched the crevices 
like blind people touching a braille.
They asked: what is this wound that deepens?
I told them:
It is a cemetery covered with ice 
unsealed eyes; full of memories
resurrecting a blue light.

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