The Bowl is Upside Down

By Arueny

 

My roommates are funny.

  Sometimes they do this thing,

making  

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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