Ancient Egypt clings to life
By clawing at my conscious,
Renewed in this, my ritual,
A ceremony lost.
A musty end of tattered cloth
Awash in dust and soot.
Slide the tip between my chambers.
Hooked so deep, fastened tight.
Make sure it won’t come loose.
Let out a noise, half breath, half sob.
Start the winding.
Now.
Curl the cloth around the organ,
Thread on flesh, weave on muscle.
Tight for a moment, a glorious second,
Then slack again between the beats.
I wrap it tight, my greatest treasure,
Preparing Pharaoh for her Pyramid.
But as the mourners strung the dead,
Preserving bones and useless skulls
Empty vessels, nothing more,
So I wind away my heart,
This, my fragile queen,
To keep myself from falling apart.
Afraid of feeling too alive.
I wrap the pain into a present.
I wind the desert into being.