43: coma in cantos, interlude 1

interlude 1

sometimes I imagine a giant
in my house, of whatever gender,
a woman giant, a man giant,
a giant no matter, who smells, maybe
of paint, daylong day air,
or polished table surfaces or pastes to put on
for bloody cuts, and when I imagine this giant,
this whatevergendered Giant
I imagine the giant standing over me
and reaching and lifting me–
what was I doing?–sleeping, dandering
into the living room seeking a prize,
or simply acting on some impulse
drawn by movement, a sudden redrafting
of the air–and drawing me up to his or her
cheek and saying something like:
oh, oh, or sniffing my neck or, maybe not
taking me up, but simply tussing my hair
or scratching at me with its impressive giant’s fingers

and so I leave my cat and dog
alone in my house unless they ask for my hands
and fingers or for any words, as I, with my math,
have calculated the proportional size
(say 1:610, which is a building currently
impossible to build in height)
of an ant to a typical adult human body
and the answer,
the answer is terrifying

One Trackback

  1. By 044/100 aka 184/365 | Talespinning on July 3, 2011 at 10:42 pm

    […] that goes by me unnoticed. It’s the details, the pinpricks that can be seen by the blind, the footprints of the ants that have gone about their daily work, that’s where life fully resides. Where it is given its […]

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