In packets of dark

Knowledge comes to me in packets of dark

always in wraps of blood, in clots of hearts,

enveloped pangs that force strange question marks

into ramrod straight, aligned like broken parts

from a meteor-flight, erased slow mo sparks,

pixel blooms of a darker black on black.

In the lightning lunge of a knife sharp truth

unseen because it comes in at the back

unfelt till it strikes skin in one smooth

movement and falls into a million cracks

the shattered baked-earth idol of a god

a minor deity in many-petalled mess

both worshipper and worshipped fractured, flawed

split in zigzag fissures of a marbled darkness.