The Room in Frame

An unfinished poem I wrote a while ago to accompany an art piece I did


If you touched your palm

to the floor, I wonder if it’ll be splintered

by the ground beading up and rounding

around your fingers.

Exuberant particles by the masses

leaving tarantula trails on your ring finger


If you pressed your ear

to the door, will your attentions be drawn

to the tinkling of an abstract orchestra

anchored to a distant solar system?

Or will the sound of silence deafen you


If you were fatigued and overwhelmed by a sudden spell of nausea and an instinct

to lean against the walls,

how much time will elapse before

the tree branches root your

feet to the ground they stand on?

How can you stand it?

– Tiffany Chu

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