• 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.

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