Cavesight
Everything here is blind:
white shoots of errant seeds,
transparent fish.
Salamanders thread eyeless sleep.
Embryo arms
reach out without hands;
unfinished dragons clot,
stretch bulbous heads
rowed with unopenable eyes.
A stream runs through me,
clear as absence.
You ask how it can flow,
reflecting no one –
my curtains of stone, where shadow
does not fall, but is;
balconies of dark overlooking dark,
unechoed shell of passages –
Don’t be deceived. I am a slow
hurricane of motion.
Everything lengthens, thickens, fuses.
Drop by drop, I meet myself.
~ Oriana
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