Sleepless night. The tinnitus is loud and high pitched.
constant and even, never-ending.
At 2am I begin to meditate. It is challenging to find space between the eeeeeeeeeeee
I ask the sound, the loud siren I hear on and between both ears, that travels around my skull and inside.
What do you want from me?
Let us in.
So I breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out
Photos in a glossy hardcover book a friend is showing me. It is 18 years past, but precise and clear.
He is a professor, this is human history. A naked black woman, heavily drugged. The white men are
in suits. Appearing calm and curious. They remove her skin. Black and white photographs document the
summer vacation. I am outside with my neighbor. He is proud to show me what he can do.
He skins the frog. It tries to struggle for a moment then goes limp, looking at me.
9th grade biology class. January morning with tiny pigs in jars.
My best dog Buddy was found dead that morning.
A sudden and
unexpected brain tumor.
I am looking into the eyes of an octopus. It moves like water before me, shapeshifting, never turning away.
A dream remembered within a dream, my child is being pushed into a well by the neighbor’s father.
I jump in after her.
A giant octopus is there, grasping us and pulling us down.
My mouth forms a scream. All I want to do is scream, my entire body wants to wail, deep and low.
In perfect harmony with the siren in my ears.
I hold it in, remembering the sleeping body next to me.
I cover my eyes.
They Are Hydrants. Salty and wet. My skin takes the tears back to their source.
You are the naked woman, you are the men in suits, you are the neighbor boy, you are the frog, you are the pile of lifeless skin. You are the fetal pigs, Buddy’s corpse, and Buddy chasing a squirrel. You are the octopus, and you are the well.
The deep dark well.
Are you trying to kill me?
yes, this is a death.
This me, it will die?
Yes, caterpillar, you will die.