Where to Begin

Two concrete rectangles, steel and wood Call one bed, the other, living room A door in and out, white walls breathe and bend Black and white floors tiles flex to feet, Large windows let in light A turquoise chair is married to a red desk A white telephone has divorced a black stand A computer is running out to shop There is nothing but what days bring They bring little for weeks. One day, the visions ease Into a pleasant unawareness and rising One sage morning sitting with tea Time unravels your head like a ball of twine: A black tile lifts from the floor Floats slowly round the room and another A white one, begins to ascend, joining Yet another and another, black and white tiles Moving to a secret order, a song Fantastic, fascinating, hypnotic… A white tile holds an eye socket and one eye Rolls out your head to fill it A black tile has a nose pulsing and you feel Yours missing from your face Your ears are wings flapping in another Fingers detached from hands Slither into black and white, Your body like always but lighter Limb by limb, organ by organ Bone upon bone coming apart without pain The entire network of flesh Spine, brain, heart, liver Circles the room, turning in slow motion A mobile of body parts United yet distinctly alone and then A window to the world opens… Everything sucked out into air into sky vanishes. There is no one now where the lights glow And the TV runs day and night, no one To say where to look; nor even where to begin