The Great Drying-Up is coming.
I can feel it in
the way I'm beginning
to flicker
and calcify.
Like suddenly I don't care
about lemon candy or
the nervous filaments on the inside
of lightbulbs or
the way bismuth, like water, is denser when it's liquid.
It is coming,
and with it, the knowledge
that I will have to spend the rest of this life
doing something,
not enough.
I cannot conceive of a fate worse than this.
I cannot
conceive.
©
's poems have appeared in 5_trope. She is a student at Princeton University, where she is majoring in English.
Sullivan’s poem “Prayer Position” also appears in this issue.
