By: Grace Miskovsky
it happens more from inside a colored glass lightbulb
it happens more when venus has risen over an ombre sky
when the warm air tickles me pink
when i drink conversation like syrup,
slipping down my throat
silk molasses
when the moon and tide are tied,
together with an unseen string
when the star clusters dance through and in each other
it happens more in the moments i am full
in the moments which we love for,
ones which we live through,
like i eat the sunset and there i am, completed
looking up at venus over an ombre sky
we live inside a colored glass lightbulb
and i have swallowed the earth.
we look out at what is left,
fall in love, not with nothingness which surrounds us
but with the things inside a colored glass lightbulb
and the things inside me
every big word could never mutter to itself, even,
because words chew the world to puzzle pieces
and spit them out on a coffee table.
but only i can eat the world
looking out at nothingness from
inside a colored glass lightbulb
Grace Miskovsky is an emerging writer and artist from the San Francisco Bay Area. She is a senior at Marin Academy High School in Marin County, CA.