“Go, return not die in war.” —Oracle of Delphi
The primeval conversation, perceived
in spirographic circles about the flesh and
breath and air above inscribes. Hints of
meaning, more about the shape of what’s
missing, or about flight than weight.
Reclined and entwined, inhalation harmonizing
over everything – fingerprints, limbs,
eyes reluctant to open… Everything.
In the rustle and wrestling, the Oracle speaks.
“Continue not drown in lonesome.”
No matter. A moment widens, wills
eternity to unfold. One tear, no more, shed
for those forsaken.
Silence, but for vowels drafted in air with hips and
the Oracle’s whisper. Divine fortune in tracks
of the taste of iron traced by the tongue in places
lips have worn thin. Read rug burns from
stubble like tea leaves, concluding “Love will prevail.”
Consider that, while trying not to spill in zero-gravity. With
knots worked out of muscles, what’s to hold together?
Kristin Kowalski Ferragut writes, teaches, plays guitar, hikes, supports her children in becoming who they are meant to be, and enjoys the vibrant writing community in the DMV. Her work has appeared in Nightingale and Sparrow, Bourgeon, Mojave He[Art] Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Fledgling Rag among others.