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.