Listen, you are pit-pattering. A turtle is gurgling in a nearby pond, his wet shell a sure bet to trip you. You’ll need medicine. Your abilities eroding, an ocean of corrosive materials crushing, rumbling down on you. A tumble of crystal, stale with the wind. Listen, you are click-clicking, splashing through life like a trickling nymph washing old nail polish off your immaculate fingertips, and grief? Grief is a great wet whale wailing outside your window that you’re choosing to ignore.
Alex Skousen is a writer and poet living in Portland, OR.