11. lotus temple

Once I read in some novel, I forget which one,
of someone pressing his hand to his chest
to ascertain that his heart was still
beating. something so Foster Wallace,
so Plath, that assuredly,
I would never do it,

but here I am (I am-I am),
palm to sternum,
reminding myself
of the deep thrum of sacred
in my ribcage,
ringing low.

I hear You when the world is quiet enough,
in the spaces betwixt sounds.

 

 

One thought on “11. lotus temple

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s