Something vague rattles the dark, penetrates the singing in my ears, and tips me forward into the room. I assumed it would be the fan slipped its pedestal to bring the fly-swarming steel petals across the bedroom floor.
Nothing.
I can feel the slow breeze rapidly cooling my sleep-sweat through damp bamboo sheets.
I was so very sure something fell. Both dogs are deep stillness at the foot, and under the bed.
I was dreaming a dream forever lost when it . . . whatever it was. . .
called me back.
There was nothing ambiguous about it and my heart is still running in the wilderness.
Sometimes at night I can feel death standing in the hall outside my room. Her fingers resting light on the knob, waiting, listening, checking on me.
It’s a standing offer, she’s been waiting patiently for my invitation, which to this point I’ve neglected to extend . . .
And . . . I have to admit, there’s an extraordinary ease and freedom to knowing she’s left it in my hands.
I am extremely careful, and all of my risks are well calculated.
Even on the motorcycle.
But I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that sometimes when I am sailing the asphalt dragon with music overflowing from my helmet, I shout out “skip this track”, because god forbid I should die listening to the Doobie Brothers.
It’s the only thing that truly terrifies me on the highway.
Beyond the singing in my ears, beneath the swarming fan, out past the hum of the air conditioner, and way below the doppler trucks on the distant highway, there is something deeper.
I never know if it’s a hearing or a feeling, but I sense it spreading.
A vortex slowly pulling everything into the earth.
The eater of rust.
I think it’s always been there, and that’s where everything is headed.
The wind chime will inevitably fall from its wire.
The cast iron door to old furnace will never open.
A fleet of ghost ships sail deeper into the ocean mud with every passing moment.
If I pull this nail from the wall it will leave a hole . . . and that is how the dark gets in.
The squirrel in my chest is choking on a nut full of orange dust.
Ivy asks, “what is it?”
I didn’t know she was awake.
“Something fell”
“I didn’t hear anything”
“Neither did I”
Nothing.
I can feel the slow breeze rapidly cooling my sleep-sweat through damp bamboo sheets.
I was so very sure something fell. Both dogs are deep stillness at the foot, and under the bed.
I was dreaming a dream forever lost when it . . . whatever it was. . .
called me back.
There was nothing ambiguous about it and my heart is still running in the wilderness.
Sometimes at night I can feel death standing in the hall outside my room. Her fingers resting light on the knob, waiting, listening, checking on me.
It’s a standing offer, she’s been waiting patiently for my invitation, which to this point I’ve neglected to extend . . .
And . . . I have to admit, there’s an extraordinary ease and freedom to knowing she’s left it in my hands.
I am extremely careful, and all of my risks are well calculated.
Even on the motorcycle.
But I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that sometimes when I am sailing the asphalt dragon with music overflowing from my helmet, I shout out “skip this track”, because god forbid I should die listening to the Doobie Brothers.
It’s the only thing that truly terrifies me on the highway.
Beyond the singing in my ears, beneath the swarming fan, out past the hum of the air conditioner, and way below the doppler trucks on the distant highway, there is something deeper.
I never know if it’s a hearing or a feeling, but I sense it spreading.
A vortex slowly pulling everything into the earth.
The eater of rust.
I think it’s always been there, and that’s where everything is headed.
The wind chime will inevitably fall from its wire.
The cast iron door to old furnace will never open.
A fleet of ghost ships sail deeper into the ocean mud with every passing moment.
If I pull this nail from the wall it will leave a hole . . . and that is how the dark gets in.
The squirrel in my chest is choking on a nut full of orange dust.
Ivy asks, “what is it?”
I didn’t know she was awake.
“Something fell”
“I didn’t hear anything”
“Neither did I”
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