a clap in the ears
a stab in the throat
as if some kind of
parental godsmack
slaps me straight
awakens the I from
an ancient amnesia
which fears and reveres
in a complex of tears
these primal aches
and buried hurts
crawl up walls they do
where childhood’s wounds
gently flower
a scent to be devoured
by the buzzing
fissure
in the architecture of this ego
casting unwilling doubt
beyond a shadow
carving lightning
across an earthen chest
built of dead bricks
and thought spheres
a lifetime of regrets hummm gently
as reflexive as they are visceral
