From Then/Again. Published by Nightwood Editions in 2017.
day two
the clock ticks, but I can’t see the time. the breeze from the window
causes sheets to bow and billow. light filters through textiles
all around. I am hiding out. I am hiding in. I am hiding.
day three
we used twine and tacks and safety pins. some corners tied knots.
four of us built the fort in about an hour, now it’s only me.
time passes differently when you are alone.
day four
I sleep in the great room where the walls hang from the rafters.
morning sun: green leaves flicker on stems outside. I watch
the window. no one approaches.
day five
the fort starts to age: seams split, walls drift, new passageways
appear, cracks in the roof. last night I was cold in my sleep.
I pulled a green wall down and wrapped myself in it.
now there is another way out to the kitchen.
day six
soon I will take it down (the couch a spring-dented hull:
crumbs, pennies where the cushions belong) I don’t know
yet how. the fort is a good place to think.
day eight
inside, there are questions but no answers. peaks and parted
openings make an acceptable form, a temporary space,
unresolved/deteriorating resolve. the questions are patient.
we wait together, me and them.
day nine
something has changed: the fort is just a fort. I am not hid
after all. besides, who is searching?