i am a blind man which way shall i go
crossing
is this the valley where the bones stitch themselves whole
falling forward
touching her flesh brings nothing back but nothing
rushing
funnel me down step by step until i’m wet with the last wave
collapsing
staring into that warmth burning in my sockets i know
emergence
sluiced it rises to meet what is at last
birthing
S.C. Hickman ©2021
