The tenth of a series of twelve written at a shuttered window, and originally published in the anthology Terra Firma.
Withering inside, it remains fixed
and free of device, the shadow’s carapace
dwindling with each
impulse. One word, one tremor,
and the regressions begin,
broaching the lamp in refusal of that
issuance to the end,
a victim of eloquence,
the precursor of the seed.
Returned to darkness, it waits in silent apogee.