we slam the doors shut, you push to start, and the sky feels heavy today.
the long way is far longer than they tell you, than I expect it to be. you cruise
by bits of mediocre village life stuck in real time. over there, men gather to fish
for minds to do the thinking for them, they seek answers in streams of standing
water, then wonder where the storms are from. you crack contemplation open by presenting
a future where seconds are consecutive: “what if we could piece time together?”,
“like, what if it all made sense?” inspired despair peaks, with sunken shoulders we
sigh in desperation. we’re unsure of how far
we’ve gone, so you turn the car around. i
ask if you’ve ever had want close in on you. the long way is rich only in aftershocks from
aortic trembles, and room for stewing in flaky flesh. we tread over trails of bewildered bones,
sequestered on the long way home.
Victoria, of Spencerport, New York, is currently working towards a Master’s degree in London, England. Her first chapbook The Cubicle was published with Gap Riot Press in November of 2019. Recent poetry and artwork have appeared in Crêpe & Penn and Ang(st) Zine. Other poems or artwork have appeared in: The Honey Mag, The Gravity of the Thing, Ghost City Press, The Sunlight Press, Vamp Cat Magazine, Bottlecap Press, and Peach Mag.