I’m staring into the abyss:
names, institutions, qualifications
rage in whirlpools within that black sea.
Pages torn out of lives. Fragments of mind
touch. I could have known them once
in the ocean that linked worlds
when we were mitochondria
protozoa, thorny-headed worms
ink from the sacs of a fleeing squid.
Some names have a face.
Faces without names shout to me
without pieces of paper to join them
in the swim. For them I will go under
learn their undulations, the ripples
of each tentacle, the all-seeing glow
in their spherical eyes. Ridged and
hooked stories of their spines.
For them I will go deep.
Papers float to the surface
on a screen at an empty desk.