O Mayeux



A body could turn
totally into a body

and be led through
origami passageways

transformed to dust against
darkness in sleeping hair.


There was an orientation
a possible location

and it left you wanting
like a hermit crab or

like a mirror hanging
outside of a room.


This poem is not beautiful
(parenthetically) nor is this body

but each has arrived in spite
of itself each is burrowing

swiftly into itself until
its purpose is derived.



Other poems by O Mayeux (http://4f4d.xyz/) have been printed in journals on both sides of the Atlantic.