the first room fills
with blind passengers
transfixed by color
cohesive minds in turmoil;
one way of thinking
preludes a vacancy I never saw coming:
the old heads begin to transmit phobias
signals that tell of
well choreographed ships
set to sail towards a sign
that stops both ways,
at their meeting place
in the second space
a Leader holds guns
pressed to his heart like an empty bottle
whose insides imprison the letters
—similar characters are transmitted through our heads
and stitched to the inside of our lips;
little black statues of virtues
set on display
foretell another broken promise
blossoming from the roof of his mouth—
as it blooms
the glass breaks
two minds merge. like galaxies.
a revolution develops
much like the fabrication inside your womb.
a wall turns to glass.
two worlds fuse.
in their fusion
a civilization presses fast forward
follow poles that measure how far away you are
the power lines disconnect
from each other
sisters become sister
still sounds much like two people talking.