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In many ways, I'm like a cornered spider


after Billy Collins

I push the wrong button and my computer

says I can learn to understand you much

better if I can get familiar with the way

you talk. I'm trying to waterski over the surface

now, in lieu of tying the question to a chair

and making it speak. An opening is like a jar

that you can't find the lid to; now it's a glass

or recycling, but not garbage. I should have looked

for a new cabinet when I saw you throwing

glass away. Wasteful to everything but onion

peels and lemon zest. That you kept. Shaved

the skin of the lemon into tiny shards and put

them in a little box with a little blue lid in the fridge.

I still have the little box. I could have left it at

the theatre. I did for a few weeks, but then I

took you home, lid and all. It's really hard to

waterski for longer than minutes, but muscles

are muscles and bones are bones and they grip

and bend and carry us over the waves.

Sofia Fey is a Queer and Non-Binary writer living in North Hollywood, California. Primarily they are a theatre maker, filmmaker, and a writer of poetry and graphic novels. But to pay the bills, they can be found pouring a latte or a nice shot of espresso. They have just written and produced a short film that is called Midwestern and it is in post-production. Most recently their work has appeared in Sobotka Magazine and The Collective Magazine. Currently, they are the founding editor at Cabaret Contributor’s Journal. They are hoping to eventually write for TV and publish a chapbook of their poetry. 

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