This Is Your Final Notice
There are no mantras for the blankness
that envelops me and the only signs of life
are glimmers of color beneath the surface
of the dark water, and I don’t try to identify
them anymore because to do so would be
beside a point that never existed. I sit
in a room full of hearts of shelves, stars stuck
to the ceiling, feeling as if I’ve vanished
into someone else’s dream. Sometimes
the hearts shatter, a pile of glass which demands
sweeping if I don’t want to cut myself.
Sometimes the stars fall, their adhesive
giving way to the ravages of time. Nothing
lasts forever, and yet nothing changes
except the shadows get longer. That’s how
it works, and yet it’s still a surprise.
MICHELLE BROOKS has published a collection of poetry, Make Yourself Small, (Backwaters Press), and a novella, Dead Girl, Live Boy, (Storylandia Press). Her poetry collection, Flamethrower, will be published by Latte Press in 2019. A native Texan, she has spent much of her adult life in Detroit.
Twyckenham Notes 