S. SMITH

Straight Time

Neural pathways light up
Like the Nile delta from space,
A reedy voice suddenly mourning time
Lost to fantasy, fascist and alien
And when I (do not) desire, I lose too
I am people who fall off buildings
I am women in desert cities
I am the human in the loop—minute, eternal, endless
“Inhale the letters that hum,” I murmur to myself
Bare legs roughed up by oak-dappled light
Adjusting my spine between wooden slats
Semiconscious in the park

S. Smith is a transsexual writer living in North Carolina. They have been published in Imposter, Transfix, and elsewhere. Find them on Instagram: @scorpionfossil.