It is the crevice a shadow crawls inside,
The cage of ribs the heart stalls inside.
It is the depths of an abyss
A stone endlessly falls inside.
An absence evolved from dimensionless Time,
The lost spaces all sound dissolves inside.
It is the maze of secret rooms
Masons built moving walls inside.
The emptiness of a pitch-black tunnel
The prisoner crawls inside.
It is the immense absence in an abandoned city,
Bombed houses the rain falls inside.
The dusty journal in an attic,
Notes the captive ghost scrawls inside.
It is the sibyl's abode, the fluttering
Dark of wind-rippled shawls inside.
First published in Lynx (2007)