|
| |
In Case it Comes Up: Kundalini is Covered by Health Insurance
I told the nurse
I swallowed a snake.
He charted: religious mania.
But I felt her—
three and a half turns
sleeping
just south of the back
of my clavicle.
I called her Vera
then,
full breath
pried me open.
Fire-rising,
slithering:
it was gospel
sliding
down my vertebrae—
a ladder
Jacob had forgotten—
yea and behold though
we came
back for it.
I couldn’t stop laughing.
Or crying.
Or saying
I saw light in the colorless
rooms
outside
understanding.
When I explained, again,
how god comes
in my root,
propels
herself through
my expanded
throat
chakra,
they were furious—
branded me
inpatient,
wrapped my wrists,
ordered more
Thorazine.
They don’t let me
sit cross-legged,
say my mantra
disturbs
the others.
Just between
you and me
this energy wall
crumbling, this crux
of second comings,
this fifth horseman—
is a woman re-forming
initiation:
an apocalypse
finally
worth the animal
salt-sweat
hump
it took to get it
going.
Copyright ©
Jaymee Thomas
|
|