Metempsychosis
Avril
Bries
metəm-sī-kōsəs.
(n) The supposed transmigration at death of the soul into a new body.
The heart walks new
hallways. There love is waiting,
dressed in a stranger’s clothes; beautiful and covert, like the first whisper of light
breathing its secrets into our morning. I lift my mouth to its name, the shape of lips
becoming a greeting. ‘Hello’ takes on the character of prayer—a litany of reverence,
a moment’s devotion before we ratify the silence. Words fail. We speak
only through the tempo of distance and the telegraph of pulse. Did you know
your blood has the structure of wings, all flutter and dovesong humming under skin?
Listen: mine too sings,
in a chorus of wonder. It writes sonnets of how love feels
like sleeping: the body relinquished to sojourn in dreams, perfect and immutable.
I thought I had lost
the capacity for these chances, these soft changes and gentle signs.
Yet each hour brings with it fresh geographies. The seconds map out conversation,
a cartography of feeling, the distance of restraint to impulse; and you
now
my magnetic north.
dressed in a stranger’s clothes; beautiful and covert, like the first whisper of light
breathing its secrets into our morning. I lift my mouth to its name, the shape of lips
becoming a greeting. ‘Hello’ takes on the character of prayer—a litany of reverence,
a moment’s devotion before we ratify the silence. Words fail. We speak
only through the tempo of distance and the telegraph of pulse. Did you know
your blood has the structure of wings, all flutter and dovesong humming under skin?
Listen: mine too sings,
in a chorus of wonder. It writes sonnets of how love feels
like sleeping: the body relinquished to sojourn in dreams, perfect and immutable.
I thought I had lost
the capacity for these chances, these soft changes and gentle signs.
Yet each hour brings with it fresh geographies. The seconds map out conversation,
a cartography of feeling, the distance of restraint to impulse; and you
now
my magnetic north.
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