three
Anna Elena Eyre
trying on different winter
coats / you put on a black cape and pull hood over top
hat / she buttons sailor anchors
together you prance in front of mirror as customers
who pronounce unaffordable warmth
a luxury her eyes shed clouds on
concrete sidewalk
blocks she holds your gaze indeterminate pupil /
she’s petrified by the mesa’s space
builds her home from bent nails & boat wood
in the desert and her son soaks every
inch of expanse / you ask if
it’s because he has never known a horizon
less sky / she is off her meds
because she needs to paint
you see the list
scan breast for toxicity / you
pull into a crowded
flee market everyone wants in on the fair
it borders / you
have a ticket
are allowed entrance
but first must check deposit balance
wait in a bank without operators
for assistance
the cloakyoutryon disfigures the oddity you try to stand out with. for her itisthe
opposite. nomatter how conservativeablazer she’ll never blendinto mirror. wealth
doesnot necessitate ateller to access but you are caught in thewait weight of
withdraw. youdonot need medication to make art you need medication tobeableto
function in town. tofunction out on the mesa. or is it that you needmedication tomake
artandart to befunctional. or you need artto medicate so that youmightfunction in
structure absently present. oryouneed medicine to keepyou from art. never nerve.
you can’t getinon the other without purchase or theproof of invisiblenumbers in
account. nerve never. her sonsaved her lamps of sewn paper and painted discarded
sign boards. you gaveup your child for hope.
Anna Elena Eyre
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