Ardennes

I am fourteen
and have been given a headlamp
in exchange for the wind and my eyes
something is ticking in the corridors, my heart perhaps
(a closed bud with something wet inside)

Armed I am
with two clammy hands
for moving and feeling my way

I disappear into a side-passage
to escape the nervous girl-caterpillar
weighing up best options
don’t know if this is an escape
or if I’ve given up

the ticking turns out to be the chatter of stacked chalk
if you collect enough dead creatures
they start coming back to life spontaneously
I am a hollow covered with a membrane
fitting into another hollow
a matryoshka that will never know
her outside mothers

ponies and draglines
parked in abandoned passageways
until they were swallowed up by stone
on a larger scale you can see how it flows

sounds so soft
they may not even exist
worm their way into my ears
and I feel the ghost particles flow
come collide with me
and show me your blue aura

I am free of static and on my way
to dark matter
salty stars sparkle around me in the passageways
when I lick the inside of my cheeks
I can almost taste them

then my name –
invoked by a choir
of offended angels