Numbing the senses by Fabrice Poussin

Too much to see I close these old browns
lost for an instant in a known world
I stumble upon the sacred grounds
to discover what lies in intimate darkness.

I shut my ears to the din of the infinite city
mouths make sounds of screams and laughter
I cannot recognize those words of hatred
of care, choosing the melody of silence instead.

Needless to inhale the flavors of a dying earth
I forbid my lungs to inflate a single time more
in remembrance of a previous delight
aroma of tea, delicate sweets and warmth.

Never again will I bite on the precious life
of the lamb, gently frolicking in the pasture
nor swallow the nectar of grapes, apples
honey, spices and fruit of the orchard.

This body in the shackles of my will
stilled, will be henceforth in this stance
a statue of icy marble, and stone heart
invisible to the increasing populace.

A mere presence of essence and spirit
a memory may subsist, single dark spot
empowered with the absent sensations
it may swallow darkness into divine light.

 

——

Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review and The San Pedro River Review, as well as other publications.