Brenda Cooper
Ship’s engines beat my blood
data is a ghost
Is living
Is a ghost
Is living
Is a ghost, living
The ship and I kiss,
each of our air pulled
through membranes
through lungs.
I am the ship
is in
that air.
We breathe each other.
To recall my body requires the dig of fingernail
into flesh, the hollow of a parched and empty
body. It hurts to be only one.
~*~
From David Lee’s Journal, undated. Historians believe it may have been from before he ever reached Fremont. It may help illuminate the mental instability of powerful Wind Readers.