The Metaphor Game
In the MRI machine,
I play the metaphor game
that whispered me some courage
through the many dooms of childhood.
I am a loaded torpedo in a submarine. No –
I am a treasure in a shipwrecked hull. No –
I am a moray eel in a cavern of coral. No.
I am a deep-water creature. I am hideous
but unwitnessed. Immortal-esque. It is my
bioluminescence that populates these x-rays.
In this metal clack, in this backless gown
with its new layers of nudity, I remember
my favorite part of the nightmare: when
you know one thing signifies another thing,
and you don’t know how you know, but
you know. It’s impossible to explain.
I am the Christ of the Abyss. No – I am
a Fresnel lens revolving in a lighthouse. No –
I am a bubble, widening, rising to the surface.
This poem was originally published in the Summer 2021 issue of Rust + Moth.