spines grow out of green bodies; celestial beings penetrate hardwood tile with their transparent
she sees the cacti living in their ceramic pots; proceeds to close her eyes to see slender limbs
emerge from eternal realms, beyond the tangible lies.
a fly lands on one of the plant’s bald spots and then it’s gone; swallowed by the soft cacti’s world
within, where there are no skies, only primordial nothingness — our home.
it suddenly starts to rain and she stands up to close the window; there is now ambrosia falling
on us, on the shadows of lust, love, mortality all dancing in a circle in eternal silence.
and as soon as she looks outside, she faints, for there is nothing there — emptiness and a
never-ending artificial light in a big white box, called reality; the world is in the pots of cacti
that stand next to her body, and for her to see true life, she must close her eyes, let go of
hearing, and erase touch to start being.