Friday, February 17, 2012

The Vaporizer


A blue light comes on

and a triangular wedge of cool mist

appears, its far edge

                    disappearing

                           into the unknown.



One of my twins  

delights in it,

carrying it from plug to plug,

repeatedly ecstatic that its being

is refreshed—

Ah, the mist! Ah, the light!



But no—his joy comes before that,

when he matches the prongs to the holes:

                      resistance

                               then give.



His brother

is circumspect,

avoiding the spangled energy

just behind the walls.

It resonates in his arms 

and makes the stumbling pathways of his brain

go dark.



Though one night,

sensing something,

I awoke.

From down the hall, I saw him,

a small, dark form on his knees,

no movement but his narrow chest’s

careful expansion,

worshipping the blue light

and its attendant breath.

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