revenant
Imago
slipping from the raft of a dream-life
clutching at water
struggling to find purchase
waking to a sound
a pulsing whirring sound somehow
a mix of the tick and sweep of a second hand
the squashed wind roar of a wind turbine’s blade
sensing the whoosh of it’s shadow
swoop across his eyelids
feeling time sluggish in his veins
the engine of his heart starting to turn over
all in his head all in the mind
a resurrection
the stopped clock that never stops
but does so not today
opens his eyes on the world again
it pours into him
a flood
filling him with light with weight
suddenly
surprisingly clumsily buoyant
he sees
his clothes undressed upon a chair by the bed
a skin to be worn
a skin to be shed
