Once, the world was just an idea

rolling in someone else's mouth.

When you unplug the lights, the sunset fades from your eyelids in ten seconds. Once, the world was just an idea rolling in someone else’s mouth. You can still hear its wet heartbeat. Maybe it’s the white pine. Maybe it’s the coyote. Maybe it’s you, one year ago, boarding a bus. •

Art by Maaike (me) with foraged inks.

This short prose poem is inspired by Victoria Chang. (If you’ve been around for a while, this isn’t a surprise to you!)

I’ve been sick and recovering, starting a new semester, and watching a lot of pigeons and crows-chasing-pigeons. And surviving an absurd amount of rain. But the sun is finally coming back to Vancouver and the days are widening just a little. All of this is leading to some muse-y, introverted essays. I have the best intentions to edit one into shape for you in the next installment of A Broken Tulip. See you then!