The Conductor

I remember.

The first time my soul
was a conduit for another.
I screamed in
rage.

Prolongedly.

There were holes
from the passage
such that one
could see
the other side of me.

If you
crouched down
and focused your view,
pieces of me
were visible in
the distance.
Firmly clutched yet
completely invisible
to the carrier.

They never looked back.

This happened repeatedly,
and I poured red
wine
through the holes.
Hopeful
of a cleansing.

Then
the inversion.

I laid down
and all of me
remained.
I laid
with her.

Prolongedly.

Now
I conduct
less frequently.
And when I do
there is a hand off.
An exchange.
No holes.

My soul
pours out
a gem.
And the other,
they hand me
a stone.

I know that stone is
a gem too.
That’s my gift.
I crouch down
and cat myself.
Back arched.
Chin tucked.
Eyes on
my belly.
The heart
of me.

I see it
now.
My
conductive
soul.

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