PoetryAloud

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Mary Anne Rojas Reads

October

we believe we become empty of ourselves, but
 that is not true. we become full, crowed like a
 bowl of rice. we become unconcerned with
 movement, moon over who we could be and
 do nothing about it. the mattress begins to
 obsess over your body. you let her. fascinated
 with how someone can seduce the stillness
 out of you. the fridge is empty and you are
 convinced you ate everything. in the mean
 of night, you roam the studio apartment
 like un espiritu left behind. you prefer not to
 bother the light with your inconvenience.
 instead, you contemplate your study desk like
 a surgeon ready to give bad news. the pages of
 poetry are just used instrument now, idle in a
 desert of pencils.  

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