. the depths .

some images

pull me back to bloodshed

sand

the walls above

my fallen Ainia

my ended love

.the knowing.

i have a memory problem
each instant records complete
sensations
my lovers never end

это было береза
скрытые я был
черным по белому
Кожа на теневой бледно
проиграл, что темно-
Вы держали не ваше молчание

 
. birch . {english}

it was birch
hidden i was
black on white
skin on shadow pale
lost to that dark
you held not your silence

are hard
heavy lifting
she left without a linger
just a touch of finger
my sleepy shoulder
not confessing
she loved a man
not me



. the line .

The lines out here in the between-distances run as thick as a gymnast’s thigh. They hang silver and shining in the mid-day suns, their counter-weight tower devices black and grey on blue background; dark silhouettes. Still filled with their wave-life she can hear their hum, and her mop of platinum stretches, sparking, yearning to join their light above. At the base of the appointed tower she drops her pod and arching her back studies the raised metallic ideograms on its pedestal surface base.

It’s meaningless to her but she likes something about it. She repeats it aloud enjoying the way it moves her mouth. She’d walk to the next tower to see if what it had to say was the same but the distance to it is over a klick away. “one two one five five dash oh six seven.” Should she have said zero rather than oh? No that would break the pleasure of the airflow.

The SpinWrench™ whirrs and the last screw jitters in the magnetic sprocket. Pulling the cover she sees the blue glow LEDs and using the isolating tool her minder had provided she pulls the module. There’ll be a clinch in the feed from it but, if she works quickly, not significant enough to signal for a drone fly-by. There’d been assurances about the supervision of this particular line, but she trusts no one after the misadventure in the BUCH-plex and so she works quickly with practiced muscle memory.

Contract complete; she hangs for brief moments on the side of the tower, the lines above sing uninterrupted. The day sun’s dropped shifting the dual shadows to ending orange while the sliver of the night sun burns metal white and she hurriedly slides the groove of the climb track to the ground. “One two one five five dash oh six seven” she whispers as she pulls her pod onto her shoulder and heads back into the tiger stripes of the evening wood, picking up speed with each of her certain steps.

she dug depths
clawed discoveries

finding me
my construction
a meme of all my others

she became me
(ghosts)

© Amanda 2014
Image: "All That Remains" by © 2014