POEM - Holes

Holes

My scar must be communicating
With your scar tonight;
It is twitching like a rabbit’s heart
And that is just like sending an email
And this,
From muscle fiber which has no cerebral cortex function
Or memory
Or soul
Of any kind;

There are wounds everywhere we look.

You could look at it as there
Are holes everywhere that you want
Some piece of solid ground
Hence, proof of the
Great emptiness of things.

Or

You could look at it as the stitching
Of all that empty space together
Closing large gaping things
Into that one thing
That eludes us.