Stephanie Anderson | 3 Poems


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


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