Adjunct, A Post-Ac Poem

This guest post was written by Ana M. Fores Tamayo. Please check out her project Adjunct Justice.  You can sign the petition here.

Adjunct

I am a fake.

Walking through the false tears

Of sand, I bristle at the thorns

Of moon.

I know I am nothing.

I come and go dreaming big dreams of empire

Yet sawdust falls around me

Covering my nestled spine in leprosy.

I used to hover orchids purpled in oblivion.

I would linger softly with loving touch over a book,

Rustling its pages, savoring its letters, its text.

But no longer do they speak to me.

No books no writing no words no people.

They have all left me.

And so I stand alone, thinking myself empty

Visible to none, a shattered vessel

Ruined by a broken pen.

 

November 9, 2012