Writing

\ synaísthima-kinēsis \

Emotion is contours,
A sea of facets flickering
With the shimmers
Of a sea of minnows.

A field of impressions
Driven in an earth.
Bent and wind \ wīnd \, wounded \ ˈwau̇n-dəd \
in time.

Time,
It happens there, too,
This trick of vision,
A groove etched in a prism.

Our silly ears.
Emotion is contours,
Interlacing paths tread
By an eternal foot

Skipping then limping,
Dancing and flailing.
There’s a party at dawn
We can go to. You know?

I know you do.
The sea of light and movement
Seduces you
As it does me.

My love, the universe
Is picking us apart.
And out of our flayed breasts sprays
A world of colors.

-bcv, 7/4/22