From The Pataphysician
Artwork by Gail Bradshaw
Tonight on Kempenfelt Bay, frozen since Christmas, the ice is breaking up.
Booms echo from shore to shore, from room to room, from ear to ear.
Under eiderdown and fleece my heart is silent.
Whether set in motion by some distant god and left to spin or finding its own lonely way home, our world is loud.
Loud with birth, with death.
Jupiter’s moons creak.
Fieldmice shuffle beans under the floorboards.
Someone is snoring.
Under skin and dream, my heart is silent.
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