Looking for something
"My deep-space prayers, probing celestial debris, will not return.” OctPoWriMo 2024, Day 16
Something isosceles, at least two things equal. Something subterranean and tuberous, a truffle in the fungal church. Some aerosolace dispersed in the air I sift with each gasp. Reflexive rooting seeks the many breasts of god. Scratch my cheek and my mouth will open. The spinal tribunal orders it. Neonates obey. The many tongues of my young altars would not say it. My deep-space prayers, probing celestial debris, will not return. Show me. Show me what I need to do.
© Tolu Oloruntoba
Notes
When I found out that ‘solace’ was one of the words I used most in my drafts, was I embarrassed? Yes. Will I stop? lol. In my defense, this post only uses a modification of that word the arc of all of my work and yearning bends toward. I’ll let you know when I find it. And yes, I’m already in therapy. :)
