A new poem by Freya Daly Sadgrove.

???

where you wake is black          and very far back behind your eyes

back           past your whipping branches          and backer           far backer than bone 

and blood           back            past your underlings and their             weird offerings

you wake back there in the black among your            demigods…

that’s not their real name                           it’s just the word you can hear

when they are writhing beside you            not in pain

demigods…                  just a word you can hear when you 

sit among them            the ones who

in the first place  

told your body push the air outwards

and exist                     and your body did

demigods…                that’s not their real name

and they are writhing beside you            not in pain

?

here in the black among your demigods

very far back            watching your body’s vision

from a distance with your demigods                   watching the faces 

arranged at the edge of your vision                    watching the mouths 

in the faces             watching the mouths and they’re moving              moving

it reminds you how mouths move             what mouths do                   it reminds you that 

mouths say if your thoughts were depraved             then we forgive you 

if you ruined the day then we forgive you

we forgive you            we forgive you

we forgive you            we forgive you

here in the black           very far back behind your eyes

your demigods are doing their job            to the sound of the trudge of your blood

they tell your body make your animal movements

make your animals movements             they tell your body             put some pasta in a pot

work in a shop

they tell your body choose to breathe        choose to breathe

they tell your body choose to breathe       choose to breathe

and your body does                    and your body does

?

turn around                         of course there is further back than that

far            far back              in a round room 

the black pea             to which you are answerable

is whispering:

Behold my astonishing hugeness

The Earth gestures                  to me

I smile and it changes the air

Time—                   haha

It wraps around me like a car around a lamppost

and stops there