Understanding Space
The spilling of a brain,
Thoughts that can’t be contained,
The crumbling membrane.
An agnostic wreck that cries out I’m four years old
5,6,14,17
A botanical solar system expect all of the plants are
dead.
Everywhere you look in my museum,
There is something to be said.
Nothing.
She stays up late because she is confused.
Time was broken in here now.
This eternal space.
See how she has squished her 17 years into her stickerbook bedroom.
Saddened soft toy teddy bears birthday cards photo albums. Red shift.
Important papers perish on the floor because there is not room for her here anymore.
And mother insists that she tidy
But memories can’t be silenced.
Copyright © Annabelle Bentley | Year Posted 2024
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