By Marie Casado
By Hannah Schwennesen
18, 19, 20.
Orange tabby cat, Hugo, wearing a tiny top hat
Stone carved by rivers carved by stone
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—
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
But where are you when the sun sets at fall’s end and the rest of us are left here dying?