Silver Umbilical Corded


entities of more than one
                perhaps dozens
                        thousands

                                have been calling
                                                        as one

they rumble in here
                        at-
                        and I know it shouldn't be possible-
at twice the speed of sound
                        is that light?

I believe I must be a tomato plant
                                moving yes
                                        but at my own infinitesimal pace

and it-they-him-her are deliberating
                                a bit of fine pruning

so what do it-they-her-him want?
                why make such a terrible din?

music is the heart of the soul
                not the click click click
                                of bicycle gears
                                        and whirring dynamos

voices like tin
                        all I try to do is bend
                                bend face to face
                                        and unravel
                        anything less than dark
                and drink drink drink

now I need a cord
        to hold me up to the light
                        palm on

before I'm canned