“Fiber Optics”, Lila Bacas ‘22

if i said i'm woven through by tubes and tubes of silver thread woven into bundles pathways branches interlocking at synaptic silver head

w would you ask me why? or would you ask me how, and how does one exist without beginning? how can "end" be strange as "hand" and "mend" to the uns to the unsewn eye?

a singular place we each occupy standing between present and past, each of us a traveler in time, a lullaby of sp space and movement sung to a child trapped inside, at once you and someone long gone—

which the nonlinear folk would never understand. as as god is in her heaven they are in their network and all is right as long as they are out of sight.

Fiber Optics

by Lila Bacas they/them ‘22