Sleeping, but not dreaming,
I wake to find a cherub face
floating inches from my own:
I am watching you.
Only a nano-second passes,
but now I know—other realities can
break through the tensioned membrane
that separates the sacred from the temporal.
In a reversal of the mermaid myth,
I ascend into another element, drown in love.
The cherub stares down through a liquid medium,
clear yet thick, like amniotic fluid:
You are not born yet.
c a r o l e b o r g e s
k n o x v i l l e, t e n n e s s e e
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