mind-rattling throbs,
those BEATS of pain
like injuries in the inbox
of your cognition.
I am standing in the middle of a bridge
Gently the top half of the skull separates
and rises,
the split forming slowly backwards
from the outside corners of the eyes
The cranium lifts up and back,
wisps of steam curl away
from the underside
The brain rises gently
like a flower in time lapse
the folds open out and forbidden air
begins to dance through them
The eyes lift heavenward and forwards
still tenuously connected to the brain
totally free of the skull
coloured static pulses indigo with the heartbeat
A cool Antarctic breeze
Christchurch, in June, at 10 in the morning.
When the frost is still barely clinging
to the grass, and the wind is no faster than a walk
Relief falls from the remains of the tear ducts
the pain begins to tumble away
bark falling off a eucalyptus
I fall
head dismantled and finally, perfectly cool
right off the bridge and into the Heathcote river
Gently swept out by the breathing of the tides
and the diligent paddling of the ducks
diving for their lunch
out into the comfortable dark Pacific
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