We call to each other in “fluent transparent animal.”*
I might be gone from the living and this is the
We call, all the souls here with me,
waiting to move on, wanting to move on.
Not wanting to move on.
I am not thinking about breathing for once.
The others here are transparent like the fish tank in Monterey.
I want to say I knew it would be like this
but my lips do not exist just as I forgot how sensitive
they used to be when still alive.
I seem to be in the middle level as high up I see a light
Like a military searchlight it shivers me.
There is no apparent order
No music or noise
The volume is turned off.
It’s very pleasant here and waiting isn’t wanting.
*a prompt from Diane’s writing class