welcome to the house of static
by Zoe Cunniffe
to the blink of heavy lids,
the wavering of vision,
this bobbing in and out
of consciousness.
here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome.
welcome to the taste of a yawn
pressed to the roof of your mouth,
jaw caught halfway. everything caught halfway.
you throw the pen down; you can’t taste it anymore—
the blood now dried to your tongue.
snow-stained sorcery, this heavenly fall from grace.
it had a voltage, once—
a whirring in the dead of night, hallucinations,
your body moving without command.
it spilled from you, so ethereal—
honey-smeared skies and cherry lips,
all these past lives spattered on the mattress.
cupping the old world in your palms, letting it drizzle
through your fingers, sweet and slippery.
silver reflection on the showerhead,
a surge of water, a dripping.
hot breath, a summer-scalding, this river
rushing up from the spiral in your stomach.
but now—
now your palms
are coated
in dust,
now you ache
over the shape
of the letters.
