The Bowl is Upside Down

By Arueny


My roommates are funny.

  Sometimes they do this thing,


voices — run out of voice,

cupboards — arise from nothing, even the

floor — runs out of space,  but

Now my soup is stuck on the ceiling. 


A funny house made them that way;

Stick doors and stone walls

That want to breathe you out, like a paper bag in turbulence.


When they looked away, that one time,

The coal window that was meant to protect our eyes

Had aged itself into a diamond.

Now the sun is blinding — to everyone.


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