If there is anything left to say, it is this: Stop Talking. When I look with the eyes on the palms of my hands, the floorboards come alive. They grow eyes in the knots where there used to be branches, eyes in the holes where the nails went through. The wood becomes like a changing sky with so many shades of brown, deep brown or golden brown or the colour of my Sam’s eyes, which could break your heart. Now there are eyes on my back, eyes on my feet, eyes all over my body. I’m moving so slowly. It takes a lot of time to see this much. Outside, the air is humming blue. Inside, the blue is humming, humming, I am like a flower that feels the coming wilt and blooms with all its might. You floor, let me fall through you, and I will bring back a mirror and the first face.
[from The Same as Yes, 2011]
Author photo: Ben Speare
