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”

Like:).

A wonderful piece of imagery with a paradox
at the tail. A great read,

Dear Suburbia