The shadows in the room grew.
Dipping the length of my leg into this newly found darkness,
like a penknife pushing it.
Stretching and testing.
And, I do not smile because I do not want to, despite feeling quite well and glad.
{in spite of bronchitis}
In my space, for the moment, there is simply, only No-One here to signal, unconsciously, with subconscious microexpressions.
My face enjoys
this fleeting freedom from observation.
My ears need not hear.
My eyes need not look.
My nostrils will choose when they wish to smell.
There is no thing I wish to taste or touch outside of my skin
right, exactly, now.
Just my own internal limbering.
So, I shift my body slowly to the rhythm generating; and,
feel my muscles begin to give.
I feel my inside/s.
It feels good and well warm/ed.
Hands raise above my head.
Breathing, not breathing.
(Resumption)
(Concession)
My heart keeps on beating.
And, my movements mirror
myself imagining me
as the serpent coiling ’round the Caduceus staff.
The toes of my dexterous foot, the finality of my snaking tail.
Inhale.
The fingers of my a gauche hand,
the small extremity of my fanged head.
Spiraling, in place.
My neck pops loose whilst
stalling in the suit of wands
and a decade of venom releases from muscle memories long forgotten.
I drain the venom out of my feet.
Exhale.
I raise the newly freed energy into my fangs.
I suddenly recall:
When playing a kazoo,
remember,
to hum;
don’t blow or you’ll
tear the wax paper.
WrittenCasey 