Repetitive stresses  is  our rhythm
A goatskin, long  dead, shouting
As life , yet in a stressed discord
In roomed houses, in  high seas
Under the rising moon of waves.

I say the same  many times over
A body part taps to another in mind
On the table, under a table of feet.

In weddings a reed makes stresses
With two beating drums, the lungs
Under a white shirt keeping pace
In operation theater ,a glass machine
Writes up and down to heart's music
A liquid travels in splutter sounds
In its grand repetition, stressed in
And out , from a recumbent body.

Rhythm is a bundle of new flesh
Crying from tiny lungs, a sucking
 Sound at a nipple, a staring at fan
Tiny hands slapping at a new air
Just from a dark of  mother's cave.

Rhythm is a forgetting of rhythm
Life ebbing away against pounding
A pounding lost from a bone cage
Relentless pounding of  life, death
At  space , in their eternal repetition.


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