• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 02
Image by


I go there, correction: I used to go there
late, when there was no one else left to distract me
(no curious children squealing in rock pools,
no coy lovers whispering in alcoves).
When it was at its most quiet, the place helped me
think, because it seemed to put things in perspective,
because there was a built-in contradiction, because
it illustrated the way a boundary doesn’t have to be
a wall, the way it can be something fluid, oscillating,
and permeable as well, allowing thought and sight
to travel so much further than the body.
But ultimately, it was still a stopping point—
nothing ahead apart from the epitome of expanse.
With no way forward, with everything else behind,
with only one way to go, it felt like the ideal place
to regain my bearings, until that evening
when they came for me with their blinding light
and I was utterly disoriented by a third option: