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:
The noise of documents
in foetal hibernation
giving birth to conversations of
Time and possibility
That only lovers
and midwives
hear.
2016