You can’t see
into my eyes,
but my familiar
will guide you
as we glide through
pace in tandem.
It, with roughened fur,
my outer persona.
I, with cowl-draped face,
its inner voice.
Two wholes composed of
twining halves, each resting
on the pivot of translation.
We speak from within
the same dreamtime,
spirits sharing,
though neither of us
fully corporeal.
And as you behold
its clear visage
held to my communion,
the only flesh of mine
on display has your
fate written between
etched callouses
connected to
digit and toe.
First Published by: Quail Bell
Publication Date – January 2, 2018
Link to my Poem
Reality's Bellow 