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Bone song
The light about me comes from
green digits counting the hours.
Though I look up in the dark to where the
ceiling hangs I still see them change,
each passing minute restrings the harmonic
of the glow. The sheepless tally
does not affect my waking state.
The horizon event does not occur.
Silence, hating itself, brings out my body sounds,
carried on blood streaming to my ears.
I can hear my heart. If I count the beats
it will establish a dicameral contrapuntal
with the clock, building a base rhythm to the mix.
Each organ adds its voice, obstructing the flow
by lip or by tongue, shaping the moving column,
forming an undertext to the tune.
The song is carried in the low register by my bones.
No ache is soundless in the long interval of the night.
Somerset 1998
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