flax-golden

hollow places Sometimes I forget who I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. All the me-ness slips away and I feel hollow and confused. Dizzy and light, like my feet aren’t on

the chandelier rebellion The chandeliers went on strike but no one noticed, assuming it was the age of the wiring or faulty bulbs and not a calculated withholding of light. The list of demands

keeping time I put time away. I locked it in a cabinet. An old cabinet, painted to look older than it is, with a lock and a key. I put the key on a

wish dish I blame Dr. Seuss. It’s a belief that solidified in my head after all the rhyming, the fish wish dish stuff. I was easily influenced by rhyming things. My mother says I

a saturday afternoon quest for power It’s a stupid thing to search for, she tells me, for about the hundredth time since we started walking. I ask her if it would be better to

accidental poetry It’s the easiest way to compose a poem, he tells me. I don’t believe him, but I nod in what I hope is a thoughtful-looking way as he throws the letters up