• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 04

I See

our faded carpet crossed
by sun and absence,
a map to the home
so often forgot,
flowerless, grassless,
you say, don't turn don't speak,
seeing is what you want
to capture. But the shelfless room
cannot hold my gaze,
my thoughts leak
from the rim of your lens
as you wait, mute
cyclops, turned on
your head and look to me
for a new perspective.