Signal
You step to the edge like the gap
between synapses, and because it’s November
you shiver a little as you peer down
into the biological canyon some pink
or web-like tissue clinging to some
other connective tissue off in the distance.
You grip around a capillary and pray,
the brain above charging and recharging
and simultaneously wondering where the charge
first came from, almost a breathing or a pulsing,
though that is going on as well, and you also breathe,
beneath layers of adipose tissue
and so many layers of skin
and skin.
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