...That wasn’t the truth though. Winter
comes and negates all its covers. It doesn’t matter where I stand.
The balcony is a floor without walls.
The yew is a hurt that shadows.
The instance lives beneath us. Not just us, everybody.
The shadow hurts us. I make sounds like
the truth. Fate and theft are involved.
I think I told you this before. The floor is a wall that obscures.
The yew is quilt without color. Shadow is a fate you involved.
The yew on a balcony negates. I told you this before.
I was left undone. It’s what I meant. Underneath everyone.
-Carmen Gimenez Smith
I was unaware of my own disappearing,
how I’d come to float onto the cement,
Seasick in this swaying city,
forgetful of my own feet.
the best questions get hummed away
fizzling into forgetfulness
the brains way of hiding fear
I was there, then I was gone
Some vague notion of home ahead of me
Following phantoms into the light
Dismayed by my senses
I’m too young to go anywhere
Other than back
Inhaling the moments I’ve been missing
