you think that you can discern how things connect for me
you see a shell opaque, and believe it structure
but where it is held from inside deceives the eye
and i, in truth, know as little as you, for my eyes point outward
and cannot return on themselves, are blinded
by amplitudes i cannot erase, deny, or subsume
travelling along wires i am told are supposed to end
somewhere over there—a little shy, incidentally, of where they did
tap tap tap, your fingers rough upon my trace
until the shell bursts along faults in directions all at once
question: what is my elation, to you?
question: what is your relation, to me?
whose answers do you really seek? yours, or mine?
if you find the figures you preconceived, will this satisfy? whom?
can you understand how digits sink into me unbidden?
in places where no entrance is granted
a tunnel to my very core—did i place it there by wish, or by curse?
I know this drill, the one that you have rehearsed into the wee hours
over, and over, and over again until you came
gasping into the starlight
breathing my name
nayyir alphekka nayyir alphekka…
place your hand here
(underneath the curve of my breast)
this is real, not that other
this is real fear, not the imagined one you mistook
this close, touching, you cannot escape
here is terror made flesh
here, i am no longer a myth
do you know why i allowed you in?
only because the choice must be thine
only with my heart in thy grasp
only then canst thou choose life
only there canst thou be made known, even unto thyself
only thereby might i be made free
here, on this altar
i shall know the cost of my sacrifice
here, you will relent, or i am undone
gemma seymour-amper, 28 september 2013