Observing a man’s hair plugs
either my new low / or perhaps a new peace /
a petal laid on a pond’s surface / i stare at follicles /
something short circuits / all this tiptoeing wakes me up from a coma /
shows me a leaf’s final green before it’s new yellow / movement /
silence / i’m in a crime show’s opening sequence / minutes away from tragedy /
yesterday, i saw a man’s body on broadway / horizontal / alongside his bike /
was that an omen / like itchy bumpy skin / i lay awake debating /
do i have itchy bumps or bumpy itches / but i’m trying to learn quiet /
i want to be dry / loose grains of sand / impossible /
instead, i could be compact wet sand / moveable / but shaped with intention /
Remnants
I have a bad habit
of seeing what’s not really there.
It comes in handy while ghost hunting
not so much while creating an ambience.
In college, I declared I was a nihilist
or something like it. I guess I gotta stick with it
so, nothing means anything.
There is no such thing as a ghost
though, I hope I never gave you that impression.
Lillian Tzanev is a writer from NYC. She has appeared in The Allegheny Review, Short Vine Literary Journal, The Messenger, and WLN: A Journal of Writing Center Scholarship.
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