somniat 22: basalt and ebony

basalt and ebony

I stand and face a wide twisting tunnel
of black turbulent waters that have frozen in time;
infinity plays out a game with itself
across endless shades of basalt and ebony;
this games stretches out the entire length
of an underground promenade
as it slowly rises past dimly lit doorways
toward a massive gargoyle face,
its gaping mouth,
nothing but unappeasable and unruly teeth
that grit back half a century
of ignobility

Moments ago, I was in the atrium,
where now, behind me — through steel shutters,
a shot rings out,
a muffled sound that echoes
all the way down my spine
where it shimmers through the small of my back
until I convulsively shutter;
there is another shot
and then another
and then nothing.

I stand motionless and wait
for the whole world to open up
and swallow me whole;
then I hear someone
on the other side of the steel partition,
I hold my breath and wait,
but all that I hear now is a clicking,
a lock, sliding into place –
the atrium being sealed off.

I close my eyes,
and I make myself breathe:
in, out;
in, out;
in, out;
it’s not as easy
as it once was.

Somewhere a phone rings
and I can’t tell if it’s here
or there, before –
for a moment I’m back at home,
lifting up the receiver
and someone is telling me
(she has the voice of an angel):
it’s time,
it’s time,
you have to go now, Adam,
at the hotel,
they’re doing it,
they’re really doing it,
hurry.

Tears begin to form in my eyes;
drip, drop
tap, tap
drip, drop,
tap cliiick –
under the table at the food court,
a small surprise,
nobody sees it but me;
I know what it means,
because I know what I’ve done;
I have thrown my soul into the pot
and am playing the devil a hand;
no wonder I chase an angel.

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    4 Responses to somniat 22: basalt and ebony

    1. James Cox says:

      This is an intriguing poem that plays with the psychology of time as the opening stanza tells an experience that seems to come after the phone message that comes later in the poem. It effectively gives you a sense of craziness. I’d like it better if the stanza “I close my eyes and make myself breathe.” was just this statement alone.

      • matt says:

        Thanks, James. Your comments are really helpful to me. That’s actually an interesting suggestion, and I’ll keep it in mind. Eventually, when this tale is done, I want to try and go back and edit it as a whole! :)

    2. Wine and Words says:

      Wooosh. That’s the wound my brain made reading the last few lines. I know what it means, because I know what I’ve done.” ACK! All too true. Who else could know. I am feeling such an unease at this predicament. Even not knowing, I root for this soul, caught and searching, weaving and dodging. Round 22 in the barrel of a gun. Finger on the trigger and I am tense.

      • matt says:

        Annie, you pick up what I’m trying to say on an intuitive/emotional level really well — still, there will be some hopefully unexpected twists as things progress. Thank you so much for reading! :)

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