The Rooms Where You Move

The rooms where you move inhabit you,
Growing monstrous in time
And when I come here it’s like
Wandering a spacious brain

The eclipse of one hundred blind eyes
Shadowy hands that dust the cornices,
Your tongues in the mouths of the gargoyles
Filled with snowflakes and ash.

What else do we find?
The unleashing of secrets, solvent mysteries
The shape of keys
And the subtle pungencies of art.

All buildings are insane and in no way
Better than any other, their grace determined
Only by cleaner motions, purity of guises
And these rooms are the mask

Of a body of wire and light
Lain out in muscled inches
For its travelers to marvel at
And wonder.

In the rooms where you move
There is no mystery deeper than the self,
No space finer that what lies between
The rubber cushions of thought

Described only by traffic and rule
As I move within your imagined steps.


-- A. Seikonia