Lost In Space
The space between not wanting
to live and not wanting to die
is an amorphous island which
you alone inhabit. The coastline
shifts, the waves crash just
when you think they should
recede. The space is like a room
cluttered with Dali’s melted
clocks; there will never be enough
time. There is far too much time.
The space is like Alice’s rabbit hole,
and pretending to be two people
is destroying you. You cannot find
the key, so you dissolve in slow
motion while your body roams
the island, searching for you in vain.
About the Poet:
Diane Elayne Dees’s poetry has been published in many journals and anthologies. Diane is a psychotherapist in Louisiana. She also publishes the blog, Women Who Serve, which provides commentary on women’s professional tennis worldwide.
Photo by Tanja-Denise Schantz.
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