
Flux Magazine
"Curbside" by Kajsa Palacios
Sometimes I can see myself walk the plank from really, really far away.
I spy my own watery grave
From a remote little island.
A flea abandoning a labrador.
Just a speck on a y-axis.
I can’t swim away from its shores.
I’m just simply, frustratingly, there.
A telephone pole,
A rail spike,
A stop sign.
Occasionally I spot a mollusk or five in the indigo pool that imprisons me.
They hum,
Like carburetors.
They purr like a six-cylinder.