“Concentration”

By Landen Raszick

concentration

there in your inner benthic zone

where the oxygen swings murky light—

non-light, imagined, visible—

thoughts open and close like mouths

breathing thick draughts of fear,

its casual repetitions, ink.

a portal of light wreathed by human hair

passes through the thick air

and the steady nothing held

like a faded projection of a lake.

the eyes open,

leaves streaming in as before, but not,

the same green keener,

attuned to human breath, breathing

as the grass breathes, or opposite.

mayflies are here

like black seahorses, musical notes on wings:

they swing symbols of infinity,

swimming black spots into my eyes.

they seem to be seeking entrance,

hovering near my ears,

the orifice promise of body and blood.

I feel loved

that the substance I’m made of

is made to be invaded.

this, I can give, at least,

for a moment of what I’ll vainly call clarity

and for the swarm that will die within a day

and come back swarming.

  ______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Landen Raszick is a Florida-born writer who'd (pre-covid) been teaching English and traveling in Japan, Vietnam, India, and Nepal. He is currently an MFA student at Johns Hopkins University.