It is very cold Here, and very quiet
Unless I make sounds and
The tiniest of
movements and then it
Is less so.

Sometimes people come along to the
Edges and they pass by in whirls of
Color or sounds I’ve never made making
Movements I could only dream of if I
Dreamt.

Sometimes the colors leak inside of Here
And hurt my eyes so I
Close them but the colors
Leak into my mind so I
Close that too.

Only recently though has someone
Noticed me Here and stopped to lean
Against the walls and whisper into the
Cracks the color has worn open to say
Try. Try to get out.

For the voice my mind opened and I tried very
Hard but all that happened was the walls wearing
Down in the places where my hands had
Pushed the hardest but alas
Nothing.

The voice came back though and the Leaner
Said Try. Try again.
And I couldn’t remember the words
“I can’t” so
I did.

And when I tried a spot of cardboard beneath
My thumb fell through
And in poured the colors and they
Burned me until I was
Clean.


And I pushed and pushed until my
Forefinger fell through and then
I grabbed and tore and ripped
and swore
and tumbled into There from Here.

And the Leaner had been waiting
And said, Welcome.
And I was afraid. I
Crawled back into Here and sat in the
Cold and quiet.

But I knew what I saw out
There.
And I will go back.
And the Leaner will be waiting for me
Whispering Try.