poem

 The Immortals

In the palace of Borges’ Immortals

Nothing made any architectural sense.

Staircases narrowed to triangular points

Darkened corridors dead-ended

Into cinder block walls 

The basement was just a void

That fell to the center of the earth

Ceilings were on the floor

And the floors, well, they were

Just a certain kind of ceiling.

Tiny trap doors opened into cathedral-like

Dining halls. Arching gilded portals 

Led to monkish hovels barely

Large enough for a cot. But I never

Saw a soul. As I wandered

These grounds I came upon an idea,

A train of thought that seemed to make

Sense of it all. 

In the following lines I will attempt

To convey my secret understanding—

First I noticed the silence

Then I began to lose my words.

5/8/22