Painting and photo by jdb
World like a White Stomach, Red Optional
My world does not move in circles
like your world.
It is so small I stand above it, head in space,
while a two-colored rainbow stretches in my wake—
its straight line an echo
of my unbent trajectory into the cosmos.
Three navels has my world
for the three births it delivers me to:
into this world, into myself and out of it.
Each is an adventure more easily seen
in a surreal world where things
do not behave.
Fish swim out of water.
Birds more commonly walk.
In the distance is the mystery
of different worlds.
What if we were born next time
to a different universe?
Stop and go.
The green of earth.
The red that’s not our only option
as we look away, searching
for the countless worlds beyond.
This is an extensive rewrite of a poem I wrote and posted three years ago. The prompt today was surreal.