Do I need an ouija board? A miracle in harrows? Poem by Sonja vom Brocke

»The bone marrow was somehow
replaced by a kind of airbag.«
The Dawn of Species


Do I need an ouija board? A miracle in harrows?
It need not hurry, slowly.
You encounter flight; growth of branches, light
wishing it would always go on like this - a mix-up in the midwife's hand.
And always rinsing it away.
Washes, pouring through your glassy gaze, from sleep
at the Argus edge; jutting out of evolutions, clammy and sparkling
to calm the coolness
vowels in the aircraft OIL - via unentwined loops
into the country that's bunkering itself in, grublike.

For the colours a mandala, bright