swathes and swathes of stiches and stiches cannot
save me from the choking ocean of my own
glances, at every reflecting surface- glasses, spoons,
shiny shop windows exposing cheap white mannequins;
and the colloquy that follows in the recesses of my brain.
i envy the amaryllis hastily planted in an abandoned flowerpot
on the kitchen sill.
lonely and beautiful.