Filament by Mara Lemanis

Filament by Mara Lemanis




When all the motors

of your native coil

refused ignition,


and you quietly folded 

inside your final filament

I felt a vacuum strip away

the chamber where 

you once lodged your

unfinished testament;

it stuck 

in the craw of thought

and would not leave

would not revive;

I felt the gulf between 

what was 

and now is not--

I felt a senseless rage 

at mortal logic

that never bends

never betrays 

its indelible truth.


Impotent grief 

trapped me in silt

fixed me in place,

when without signal

without seismic pulse

the flap of an instant

sprung a miniature motor

spun a column of air

and I saw your gaze

--like an image 

repenting its shroud--

dissolve into mist,


and a miniature 

motor in me

flung out 

an angle of light,

leaped across Holocene time

flew space years faster

than speeding light

to void nature's logic

to merge with

the spark that had

stripped your dense coil.


At once I knew a logic

subtle as the dawn,

as the shy corona 

on an early spring bloom;

at once inside 

my leaden coil

I knew a seed 

smaller than

a wink of dust

stronger than 

the weight of 

Giza granite;

and then I knew what

naked eye could never see

what the womb of thought

would always know--

that you and I would

ever spin together

in galaxies far 

and close as air,

and together ignite

and stir and spin

and never stop.


Mara Lemanis


Images: 1) Indistinct filament, 2) Indistinct cloud wisps