Crux
I was dreaming my real self
when I woke with a jolt, had just slipped
out of my seventh skin
was approaching the nub of the thing.
Like a chrysalis from ‘Khrusos’
meaning gold and holding S.O.S within it,
I was slowly unpeeling
my wings, glittering with metallic sheen,
cautiously emerging from the split
cocoon, to dry in the clamour of air.
Before I got to test them,
see if I could really fly,
emerged into the abundant dawn light,
leaking from behind the blinds
that looked like a frame of light,
my whole life held in a hidden picture.
Raucous gulls shrieked
morning greetings, my alarm buzzing
until I silenced it, hand groping blindly
and I rebirthed my self in the linen winding sheet
of my bedclothes, emerged
from beneath the bedrock, shielded
my eyes from the crux of it. I pressed down
on my abundant battered heart
shook off the tug of seeping spring tides.
Somewhere deep underground,
buried rivers swell like amniotic fluid.