Crash Site

What good is a road map
through the stars
to the planet of the blind
crawling fingers they search
body cavity conversations in
digital dialogue with
the sweat of sensation

network of dots
freckles on the pages of her skin
the paragraphs written throughout
that bone hard flesh

they witness my descent from stars
into madness
delirium dancing like
swirling galaxies crashing
their clouded eyes
each orb a storm
a beginning and an end

the ashen sinkhole of my crash site
this crater a womb
my naked conveyance
their awkward wandering gaze.

TA