How the World Was Made

And I saw the anatomy of the word, the anatomy

of the sleeping eye, of the bleeding star

at the edge of implosion. Of the mouth as it prays

against another mouth. Of the mouth remade

into the smallest island of finches. Anatomy of the sea

before the land fractured it. Anatomy

of the ancient ferns, the reptilian eye of the dark form

hovering between them. Anatomy of adagio

and of the voice. Anatomy of the prayer

between mouths, of the space between words

in the book laid under the tongue. Anatomy of histories,

of each other world entwining with this one—

a diagram of light and dark matter stretched

across the surface. Everything was veined, everything

given shape and bone and muscle to fill it.

Everything became mortal but I could hold it.

I could hold it, and it held me. I heard each thing stir

awake. And I knew the answer. Take this

throat, its slender tangle. Then breathe into it.