Laura Goldin

A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ME

In a landscape of inanimate small objects, I was speaking very quietly,
giving instructions that could not be followed.

On the table, I was the dead woman on the table.

It occurred to me to stop pretending.

It occurred to me to take my head off and examine it.

I found myself lacking in emphasis.

I found a thought that all I’d ever been was angry.

I was apart from all the others, eating fruit,
making embodied noises.

I was walking slowly, making circles too small to permit of observation.

I considered the cantilevered window.

I reviewed the sidewalk, and the intervening air.

To undertake myself had been my dearest wish and was
the noblest of all my failed ambitions.