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Nov 2023
my limbs are heavy
I’m frozen
glacially stuck.

time pirouettes around me
flies scribble emphatically in a stuffy room
a soft wedge of light scans the cobwebs
clinging to the wall
a cellar spider hails to me from a box of kleenex

this room is a mental illness ISpy
every little pen cap or thumbtack
every single thing
is another thought in my head.
my heart is pounding with the realization.
another thought here to stay

I spy
the millions of hopes and dreads and fears and doubts
scattered, strewn, stacked, piled
teetering on the edge of collapse
ever growing
yet also collecting dust

I spy
my body
defying gravity
I feel like I’m on Jupiter  
I think I’m becoming non-newtonian
brain still whirring like a contrite zoetrope

three fans drone in my ears
and I jump—
—startled
as the garage door opens
life continues around me

I should at least put on pants.
Kendra Canfield
Written by
Kendra Canfield  Washington
(Washington)   
96
 
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