In the recesses of the woman’s mind there is a warehouse. The warehouse is covered with wisteria. The wisteria wonders what it is doing in the mind of the woman. The woman wonders too. The river is raw tonight. The river is a calling aching with want. The woman walks towards it her arms unimpaired and coated with moonlight. The wisteria wants the river. It also wants the warehouse in the mind of the woman, wants to remain in the ruins though water is another kind of original ruin determined in its structure and unpredictable. The woman unlaces the light across her body. She wades through the river while the twining wisteria bleeds from her mouth, her eyes, her wrist-veins, her heart valve, her heart. The garden again overgrows the body—called by the water and carried by the woman to the wanting river. When she bleeds the wisteria, the warehouse in her mind is free and empty and the source of all emptiness. It is free to house the night sky. It is free like the woman to hold nothing but the boundless, empty, unimaginable dark. Copyright © 2016 Brynn Saito. Used with permission of the author. |
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