I

two holes:

one small, dark, and clean

on the other side
of his head

two large ragged stitches

After all,
no one will see the scar.


II

How far can it stretch,
how capacious the mind,
before it snaps?

How fragmentary the discourse
how wide the gaps
under duress.


III

The borderland between certainty and doubt:
the act not quite seen
heard only as an echo-
the understanding that runs off into the dark.

Who would believe
vision from so tenuous a claim
so tentative an understanding

except one who stands as stone
hearing the wind rush into the gap?

#1, Down for the Count || #2, Harpy