Sunday, December 04, 2011

Counting breaths crawling through thresholds

It’s not easy to face him
faceless not reflected by mirror
always hiding underneath
skin that crumbles
in cold air and stretches in heat
like any skin a pretender
a dark man loving to climb trees
and jump off cliffs in the night
without knowing whether it is ground or sea
he will dash into.
In some nights he comes to my house
and sits on a metal chair
bringing it in from I don't know where
quiet and static behind the kitchen sill
watching cars in the street, passengers, 
streetlights reflected in rain 
dropping from window panes
while I try to sleep in the other room
counting breaths crawling through thresholds
longing to breathe into me 
what he sees but cannot tell
I am not sure 
whether I want to know
and hold my breath till it is morning.