Not I

by Anna Mace.

It was one to remember,
this one,
{heavy like a holy book}.
More, {like scrunched up wings}
sought Kafka, for glimpses
of the world. Melete on the left,
her shadow a compass, <Take a
chance on the 4-1-4, wait for me?
Posting moments gratefully,
celebrating with pride
{like a framed odyssey}. <It was

impossible to fail>, she said.
So we got married in a
single breath. The possibility
of union was exciting atoms with
our fingers; vibrating form to
thought. Puncturing fantasies we
tucked them urgently into secrets
{like pigs in blankets}.
More, faithful we,
{like messages folded into promises},
hoped EPICAC would re-write the future.

He, showed upside-down worlds
and fading light {across distorted sight},
without human lenses.
We watched men {1⁄2 Hitler, 1⁄2 Jesus},
<peel back and step inside>; purposeful,
{like cockroaches
crawling between creases}. The
smudged colours of cut-out worlds,
where [wise] Solomon built a headstone
to artists: <[here lies] The Music Of The Spheres>.
Bleeding black patterns

snaking between centuries
{like words date-stamped, for return}.
More, deluded,
{like battling universes virtually},
creators exploded bombs perfectly.
Captured photos, our dust will
<always leave a trace>. [Here lies]
Progress; Paratheses. {[Pause]. Infinity}.
Setting sail into an abyss,
it was an epic[AC] journey, (I) we said,
{like all our favourite dreams}.