a broken window rattles in my left ear,
cochlear implants doing god’s work
my limbs feel detached lately
i hate defiance;
i hate myself
i have big hands
that i use to scratch my scars
and to occasionally write hymns of my stupid life
i wish there were an implant
to fix these hands of mine
i’ve noticed at night
that my belongings sprout claws
and watch my insomnia
with cruel gazes
aimed at my thoughts
until they stop at you.
the window seals its cracks
the metal rattling fades
my limbs pick themselves up off the ground
and my grimy fingers shorten a few inches
as the leers on my belongings are wiped clean
the thought of you
makes me whole again.
Editors: Blenda Y., Phoebe H., Alisha B.
Image: Paul Cézanne, The Card Players, ca. 1892–96, oil on canvas (Musée d’Orsay, Paris)