Aether/Ore

'Aether/Ore' (photograph of oil, hair, glass, water) from 'Weight, the Sea'

Inside, this place where lungs and bones should be, it feels like there is a heavy, industrial fan, rusty, dented fins and frayed electrics; like a damaged clock, revolving erratically .... blowing stale air into itself. Like something I swallowed when she left and it’s now part of me, corroding metal where pink flesh should be. I carry this weight inside me, in my eyes, on my tongue. It is all of me. The weight of waiting. The heavy weight of nothingness. Both air and solid. Let’s call it ‘Aether/Ore’.