So painfully and shudderingly alive.
My skin is paper and the wind
shivers right through me.
I don't think.
I breathe in through my skin
and out through the souls of my feet.
An iron wire tethers me
to the center of the Earth.
My body quakes.
A silver thread from my head
runs to the center of the galaxy.
I am Nikola's coil,
with arms and legs and opinions.
I am a little Earth Apple lying
on my back, kicking and screaming
in the cradle of life.
And cradled I am.
How soon will the great big hands
come to comfort me?