Power by Monika Kostera

That layer of dream which is like the abyssal

zone of the ocean, darker than space,

where all is one with gravity. There

 

I am a transparent tube.

 

To wake up shatters lungs,

makes heart rattle, one comes up with

body all wrecked with pain. Nothing

 

can be brought up, no name, no language,

no story, resurfacing is possible when naked

inside.

 

The likeness of cause and effect, the calm of the facts

cannot fool us, not now, not any more.

Something has burst. Tubular roots snap and fill

veins and stars with a pulse.

 

Skin, so thin.

 

I mistook my feet for roses and snakes,

walked away with bare, crooked gait.