In a breath of deep sickness

In a breath of deep sickness you feel the appendages of your body as small stubs barely propping your thin shirt out into a windblown landscape, but in the mountain starlight rising, a faint speech of light, you see them fully formed and shading through the outerspace of desert evening, albeit slenderly like dried liquid flesh over bones. You sank below the crest of one last dune and the smoke above the reflected green of John’s white eyes hung in a corona over the dune and the empty straight line of his mouth cleaved your eyes. When you breathed you coughed sand. The green smoke rose to tie across the Milky Way in the sash of a foggy icon that you could only see by looking briefly, then away, so that your mind could tease its image out of the apparent emptiness. (more…)