Written by Callan Latham – Instagram: @callanwrites
I start on the edge. From now on,
I am moving. Getting to know the
water under me, collecting like nickels
at my feet. We never rust in this lifetime.
I am a wealthy woman when it comes to
nothingness. And the train speeds past me.
It leaves me on the glass, a reflection of past
self standing still. It sends a lick of fog into
me, clouds my brain with abandonment.
I think of the times the sun was
too beautiful to look at. My body
sticks against the horizon, an invitation
for heavens to grow in odd ways,
a mutation of light against the spine.
I think of myself as a lost place,
a relic too human to last.
My mouth opens to the sky’s sound,
humming a flame of morning.
I watch for hours, stuck on the other side
of the glass. I wait for the ruins to pass,
but they just keep coming.