A Trick of the Light
Awash in clinical glow,
It’s an attempted depression abduction;
My makeshift sun with robot feet–
High-voltage shine masking
A sleight of head, shifting proteins around pulsing brains,
Because something about a dearth of particle collisions
In the action-starved backs of my eyeballs
Has something to do with whether the dishes get done,
Which makes as much sense as fitting a set of shoulders
Through a pelvis
But I managed that too,
Many things are possible, with or without reason.
The insides are dangerous, you know.
It’s a spooky bog of venom, bindings, trap doors, and sheer cliffs
Tangled up inside electrical twinges through hyper-aware pudding.
If I am ever devoured
It will be from the inside.
The daylight keeps my vampires tucked in sulky coffins,
So with fervor I flood my face in the spotlight
And pray to a lamp
For twenty minutes,
To save me from myself.
Erin Clarke is a poet, copywriter, and linguistics nerd currently living in Portland, Oregon. In her work she draws inspiration from meditation practice, physiology, nature, motherhood, and her decades-long history with major depression. In addition to writing poetry, she enjoys tap dancing, singing, hiking, learning new languages, and watching anime.
You can read more of her work at erinclarkewrites.com and on Instagram @eeclarkeish