There was only one word to split
between us, so I chose cleave
for the sound of its halves, the clever
falling, which turns into
clinging, the rhythm of a caravan
made from cloven hooves, or the cleft
in the rock where Moses hid
in order to see God
pass. This is how far names
will travel when letters break
free from the black light
and fall down like seeds,
and yes, they will sprout
since every flower holds
the blueprint for the next.
Consider the contronym, held
by one root while it wanders,
a two headed beast, fed in opposite
directions; to the north is the wheat
which turns into bread if the air blows
cold enough, to the south,
the hot bitter fruit we call oil
burning, left and right are the legs
that move forward, since walking
is only an agreement
between the desires
of the brain. Let me
list the ways to double back,
to stay still, the balance
of this and the next,
like the wind who serves no one
but always returns,
or the sky, that was told
to bend down and lend its shifting
face to the ocean.
“The Twins In Sivan Are Not Identical” – Jane Medved

Photo used under CC.