Poem: at the bus stop, checking my phone.

 

Woman Reading by Candlelight by Peter Vilhelm Ilsted, 1908

I wear a word- Flesh. 

I can touch the wall 

a face

a clock

a ill-mannered hand 

yet still all this loneliness expands

I can imagine a bed rock

a glacier 

hot sand

yet all this loneliness expands

what to do when I become 

the table 

the chair

the bed

engulfed by a weariness not shared. 

Known by all, 

all loneliness instead. 

From one gracious word to another

from two kindly faces, only to each other

for a mother and darling father

I dream alone, alien 

and alone I falter.