
there is only one reality and it’s whichever one i’m in right now
mildew trails the carpet
to your doorway,
blackened green with rot
object permanence:
you only exist when
making eye contact in the lichen-
stickered mirror—
yourself, or someone
else, who cares.
correspondence passed
between the paws of cats
is always lost in translation
sunk like the corpses of
a thousand young fruit flies
humming in your ear
that you’re real.

unlimited wishes life hack
i trace a fingertip across my cheekbone
and a thousand silken spider legs
ripple outwards, concentric
currents, riptides of eyelashes
all the way down. i run my palm
across jaw, chin, collar, soft
with the oils of eyelashes. the
breeze lifts my lashes with a
chill. man, you’re an astral
echo of some body devoid of
tension. something fell off.
i can only look up
through my lashes.
pull a loose thread from my
forehead. puckered lips
send it off. pull another. make
a wish. pull another. make a
wish. pull another.

i can’t go out tonight i’m photosynthesizing
and if nail polish blocks out the sun
and my body wills a fungus
i will stop feeding uninvited guests
and topple from their palms
freefalling air cradles my face
as i parachute through dimensions
onto lavish undergrowth
inviting spores into my lungs
where moss assumes my organs
with tender velvet fingers
finally, someone doesn’t call me mommy
or ask me to step on them

Stephanie Anderson (she/they) is @whoastanderson on Twitter and Instagram, or whoastanderson.neocities.org.
+ There are no comments
Add yours