i find myself re-enacting the moment
i place my hand palm out and fingers spread
as if to touch the limestone interior

then i pretend to take some liquid ochre in my mouth
and purse my lips and pfff — spit it
across the imaginary surface

and as i do i taste the tastelessness of mud
like the hermetic chamber of the cave
becomes a rock-womb for our trembling

then i examine my hand with its fingers spread
for any sign of change
i see that everything has changed