As Above, So Below

I. As Above

The delectable garden was illusory
and quite hot so most of us were
plaintive, quietly mumbling obscure
expletives and trying not to envy those
with suntans, until at last we removed
our pear-shaped bodies, hung them
like rotting fruit from a large tree with
orange foliage, and skittered away
in a flock of torn-up notes that
might have been eloquent
if ordered correctly.

While we were out, a porcupine
nibbled on our empty skins, which
we understood to be an omen. As
floating scraps of white paper, we
seemed to sparkle, and we decided
it was all for the best. In the evening
sky a cloud formed in the shape of
a squid, and began raining
indelible ink.

II. So Below

Living on the rancid underside of
events for so long, vermin of causality,
we feared dropping off into further
misfortune, that dark, oily liquid
unknown beneath us.

We could not swim. It looked
undrinkable. We were afraid to
try. Sometimes the surface winked
encoded messages at us, and chuckled
against the pylons. We never understood
the joke. The wind grew stronger. Our
coats were thin. The structure began
to vibrate. One by one, we tore away
and were lost. I never heard
a splash, never felt
myself go under.

©2002 F.J. Bergmann

"As Above, So Below" appeared in Ur-Vox #4