by Mar Von Zellen
is akin to:
a) Moldy avocadoes.
b) Time suckling on heartbeats.
c) Copper wires twisted into sharp points.
d) Locking yourself out of your house while the neighbor
who leaves his damn Christmas lights up even in summer
stares at you, grinning, from behind the fence.
e) Sycophants, Toadies.
f) An old piece of gum stuck onto a soul.
g) Modern journalism.
h) A dreamcatcher hanging above your bed, swinging, as
your limbs paralyze in sleep and the Old Hag clutches
your ankle beneath the blankets just tight enough to say
you are not asleep at all.
i) The last slice of cake, riddled with dust.
Mar von Zellen is a Prague-based poet & writer whose work has been published in places like Big Bridge Press, Pretty Owl Poetry, Redheaded Stepchild, Temporary Infinity, and Open Field. She writes mainly metaphysical and historical poetry, gaining inspiration from Prague’s magical features (especially the time portals). Her two old cats inspire her to take more naps.