By Marie Casado

intangible

By Hannah Schwennesen

 

18, 19, 20.

Orange tabby cat, Hugo, wearing a tiny top hat

Stone carved by rivers carved by stone

Spaghetti tacos

 

21,

Cough syrup backlit by fluorescent integers

from a universe too textured to be interpreted

Picture melting jello seeping into cracked sidewalk, then exploding at sunrise


 

Half doesn’t seem like much when there’s still another half


 

But then the headaches and empty beaches and stale air

Twenty one epochs culminating precisely in one irresistible hypothesis—

Breakfast pasta

 

An entire universe constructed from a treasure map shattered in the smallest fraction of a second;

i guess there’s no more gasping for air now.

 

You imagined a war never-ending and all-consuming, war to end all wars

Instead there is glass scattered on the kitchen tile weeks after the fact

        is it gone?

Bruised skin still never turned to blue

 

They say absence makes the heart

grow

fonder—

But where are you when the sun sets at fall’s end and the rest of us are left here dying?