hemianopia

by | Feb 14, 2023 | Issue Thirty-One, Poetry

one.

i didn’t look in mirrors. 
glass refracts broken images that remind
you of the way you shimmer 	shimmer
	unreal
in your own mind.
everything outside your head is 
in your head, still. 
one reality warping yet another. 
a gelatinous fragment of the passionate sun,
melting.
itself.
in the mind.
minding my business. 


two.

i remember remembering,
i remember saying i should remember,
i remember forgetting,
i remember-forget. 


three.

the idyllic days gleam like resin.
gilded fine-coat. 
one-track heart creates another track to
run the same train across the same train
of thought over and over and over and over and


four.

repetition tastes like metal because metal tastes like blood. 
in the glass, i see gap teeth, cheek-
		pudge. 
mirror smeared with cleaning solution.
over 		lipstick.
and 	
	blood. 


five. 

“what happened?” i. don’t know? i was blind when i saw it. i was deaf when i heard it. memories that feel like slow-motion static trickling through the air of a dead zone. memories that feel like breathing underwater. 


six.

wailing i
stumbled i
crumbled i
collapsed i
t —	
	cried my best (?)


seven.

i? 

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