Athena G. Csuti, 04/12



There is no list-

only this.

blinking, breathing, and neurosis
folded clothes, dirty dishes, missing pencils
unpaid bills
stolen time for sex and video games
Deadlines that ring with finality.

I know
tears during the commercial break
I’ve been
anxious over grocery shopping
I’ve unwillingly
laughed alone, in public, at typos on ubiquitous pages

And then the questions, upon questions-
slow glances, cleared throats
but no answers.
just the constant of the tide coming in
and a hundred and fifty dollar fine if you do it wrong

Once I remember,
there is no structure, format
no correct answer
I am Lost
in a windy field of endless options

No bones,
no porous skin
no teeth no eyelids
I am a formless creature drifting out into space
aiming for stars, but orbiting black holes

Promote. Poetry.
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