When you live in darkness in a cave

When you live in darkness in a cave
for too long

your internal clock melts
like a Dali pocket watch folding
back, going limp without bones,

second hand becoming minute hand,
minute hand becoming hour hand,
hour hand becoming time eternal,

your memories becoming dreams,
new ones as illusions,
myths you decipher to yourself
from floating symbols—
falling before your half-shut eyes,

as browning leaves crumble
into sands of gold
drizzling in summer rain,
scratching your cheek 
with claws,
you’re bleeding,

you think you hear them
with your tongue,

you taste petals of cherry blossoms
in spring with your fingers,

in winter you see yourself standing
over your sleeping self:
a pale, wingless, hairless bat.

Finally, when you wake up
from the cave, light singes
your eyelashes—
but now you can see:

the weather is clear.

This poem was first published in Eunoia Review, 2025. It was inspired by an accidental experiment of French scientist, Michael Siffre.

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