If My Eyes Were Clocks I Could See Space from My Living Room
by Laurin DeChae
I don't know why I should write this.
I don't want to.
I don't feel able.
Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wallpaper
The light changes as the time changes
and my mouth falls open to the stars.
Everyone laughs at me
and I cry almost all of the time,
but I always liked to think that I was ordinary.
I can feel it, the drought
that sucks me thin.
What makes me unmakes me.
If I could talk to furniture on a yellow whim
I know I would peel apart like petals
opening to sun. My glue unsticks me.
For every room, a paper filled with print, a slick hanging.
What between me and you is paper thin?
One pulls apart what makes us pattern. I can feel it.
I am sick and no one believes me.
I am sick in such a room for worlds.
Gyroscope Review !4