Oldening

Air still on my lips,
I don’t know what it is.

Is it I? Is it you?
Does it float

like my heart feathers?

Voice, a dark shimmering thing
at the edge of my head. Something sweet too.

I want to swallow the world outside, it’s all new,

is it this black or
is it this sticky red crushing?

I will spit it with my first breath: oldening.

Choices – A piece of music

Picture by Katerina Dramitinou (Greece)

Poem by Petra Whiteley (England)

Music by Cornelia Pasch (Germany)