by Emily Ruby
I would begin this piece by saying “I woke up”
But I didn’t wake up
Because my body never ceased to quiver and
My brain forgot how to walk
And as my legs remained closed and
My knees continued to touch my belly button
I had no option but to shake
The distance I felt towards the universe
So instead I decided to stand
The only thing my conscious had forbidden me to do
Out from under the covers
I left a space in between two joint mattresses
While two girls who had somehow managed to keep eyes shut
So with a squeak first from my sneakers
And then the door
From then on all I heard was footsteps
Some were mine but some were not
Some were men and some were not
And sometimes it was hard to distinguish which belonged to me
The sound did not stop until the sky was a deep blue
Not black anymore
And the ground lost its shape because
I began sinking with every step
But now there is a new sound
This time it is eery but yesterday it was soothing
And each wave; pushing and pulling
So I step back and stay dry
I am alone now but I like it
Because I have never seen this place so desolate
And suddenly I hear the feet again
But the pattern comes in a different rhythm
And I guess it is too fast to be human
A pace two times faster
And the dog licks my ankle
“Buenos dias!” I hear
Which is polite especially when accompanied by a smile
But my intuition rejected the greeting
And my body shriveled up
Just like last night
Or maybe I should say this morning
But it was
Because he was a man
And a man had kept me
From falling asleep