The Archivist

Midnight. 2015.

I open the door of the room of dreams
and file the box on a numbered shelf.

Cold in the air conditioned womb,
I turn the lights off
and stand in a darkness so profound
and locked
that silence struggles
with the angel of death
until their bones crack.

And that is the noise of documents
in foetal hibernation
giving birth to conversations of
Time and possibility
That only lovers
and midwives