at long last

this is the part of me that

no one else can see

the part of me that keeps hidden away

beneath my skin

in a state of pure essence

quietly drifting in small pools

of nucleic acid

this is the part of me that waits

and listens

measuring the points where my body ends

and the rest of me begins

*

this is the part of me that stays awake

while I’m sleeping,

the automatic pilot

with infrared vision,

that dwells along the contour

of my thoughts

this is the part of me that moves freely

between the real

and the unreal

assessing their equivalence

this is the part of me that can see

the things that are not there

*

this is the part of me that spits fire

and summons genies

the part of me that watched the years

go by

uncompromised with age

this is the part of me that would have things be

as they once were

the part of me that views the world

through a Technicolor kaleidoscope

illuminated by a sunlight that only shines

within my memory

*

these are the parts of me that I dissolve

piece by piece

along the way

diligently;

upon the other side of Proust’s sentences

behind the curtains in Vermeer’s rooms

and throughout the nebula of Mahler’s Adagietto

so that there may be remainders

of what was felt

that never stop falling

*

and this is the part of me that is not human

the part of me that does not breathe

oxygen

nor speak any language

this is the part of me that

can remember the time before time

and knows what lies

beyond the edge of space

this is the part of me that is so solid

it has no mass,

a part vast enough to comprise the void

yet so fleet

to occupy a glance