Our Singularity
A Poem by Matt Gillam
You drowned me down to a spinning haze,
a cloud that hurricaned
with little fizzles of flashes in blue,
a single vicious notion that the number
of two was one number too many
and must be destroyed.
Skin soaked in with twisted grins,
a head of wine
and fingers panged
with a hunger for a new secret fold
of flesh and fluids and solid bone.
And your tongue,
it talked to tame the ends
of nerves that twitched in freckled sparks,
electric silk that wove in me
a soft handed song
with a muscled arm
that I could not help but bite
my teeth into.
Your wits and mine,
they tussled our of our skulls
to wrestle on heaving chests.
Our cadence each a competing pulse
that worked from the mind into the hips.
My mouth and yours an open portal
of epic poems banned from words,
that battled the tide of separate pulls
to tress twin threads into a strand
and knot the ends in a haloed ring,
a circle that knew no end.
Surging splashes in gentle hues of colored blues
caught up our selves
and tied the dual.
The chemical volts let vanish the cords
that bound our light to the cell of the skull,
and as the glow burned twice as bright
the number of two was made again
to be reduced to nonsense.
Thoughts to want and wants to flesh
separate bodies converged in one,
a single shape of tranquil light
an unfolding sense
that collapsed our selves
to let fall the bodies melting muscle
and form a new identity
between our wet and cuddled skin.
And there our coma
was allowed to consume.
Matt Gillam, 20, is finishing his second year at Santa Monica College. Accepted at UC Berkeley for fall admission, he intends to major in philosophy.
December 11th, 2009 at 2:42 am
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