Poetry

Hun

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“The Hun or ethereal soul is associated with the Liver System, and is the aspect of consciousness that continues to existin more subtle realmseven after the death of the body.”

When hun walks, I walk. When he
wanders, untethered, I go with him.
With her. My eyes close, and hun’s
will be wide. He leads the way. She
leads me, away from my bed to stand
at window, which I open. Hun will lift
the sash so I can lean out over the street
where someone is screaming. Always
screaming. Known to walk after the body
dies, hun is roused by this call. But the
chill, the smell of the distant river, wakes
me. And hun retreats. I’ve been told to
put bells on my window so I will wake
when it’s opened. When I open it. The bells
of the Cathedral ring in the dark hours of
all this animation: wandering spirit of my
organs, custodial ghost of my art. He wants
me grounded. She wants me flown. I am
here, I tell himher: not lost. Aloft. A-
sleep or awake, I am led, leashed, walking
in the wake of our odd arrangement.

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