Paradox No. 7

 
In this there is a clue.
Watch. Watch.
See how the bindweeds cling, 
their blue trumpets 
spiraled closed, 
waiting for the daylight
of the next world.
I pull the petals
from my mouth.
I am I am I am.
See. I am silent.
I am rattlesnake. I am still.
The glass is emptied.
The vine groans its silence.
There is light.
Shadow light.
I am still. I dance 
like burning glass.
I am rattlesnake.
Two women fill me.
Two women
sharing a cut tongue.

4 thoughts on “Paradox No. 7

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