Navigate Negative
Navigate Negative
She lies at my feet, on the beach. My bare feet. Hers. My bare body. Hers. She's painted blue. White sand on her skin. Constellations.
I stare at the sun. The shock of discovery. The shock of cold water. I honestly do not know, for a long moment. Is this sunset or sunrise? I stare at the red. The sun is a distant ignorant impersonal god. I feel its tepid thoughts on my skin. It is an eyeless face or itself a blind eye, turned.
Cold but burning. A hole in the center of my sight. Her skin is painted blue. With constellations.
Periphery. I see a bird fly from her face, but when I guide my focus to damage even dumb beasts fear I am spared by an after-image. Her hair spreads out from the negative sun. She's painted blue. With constellations.
I drop the rock I've held forever and turn away. I cannot steer by these, or any, stars.
Copyright 2004 Pete Mandik