I take the wilting flower, caress it to life again. The only sign in this underbelly. In a globe of dusk, I walk, camouflaged. The puddles show me onward, rippling with night sensitivity. Or the breath of wolves. Unseen, they pace in the alleys.
I wear protection. I’ve passed through Hades before. It changes its face the moment you turn. This one I have seen. It can’t hide its truth, I know it too well, having fallen then risen. Always it tempts me with falling. But it only made a poet of me. Next time, my revolution will take some of you wolves with me. By the scruff of your transformation.
Galaxies stir above the broken crowns of houses like teeth and the street is deserted as I swoop through, tailcoats flapping in an unsure wind. Deserted but watchful. I see you too. You’re wondering if I’m one of yours but sense I’m not. Still, you recognise me. Eyes. Sideways. Everywhere.
Time is short, I hurry on. The window mustn’t close before I’ve passed. They would thwart me if they could and I feel the softness of plotting in the night. Their uncertainty buys me time. I step over the threshold that burns with the holy traces for those who can see.
Come then. Show yourself. Cross over if you will.
© N Nazir 2023
Written for Shay’s Word Garden, where we are given inspiration with Michael McClure. Words used: globe, sensitivity, wolves, Hades, poet, revolution, galaxies, crowns, swoop.
Written also for The Sunday Muse, image as shown.