the firmament become the lid to a
box without windows, dark and hot within
like the petals of an orchid steaming
in the jungle after a rain which then
became oppressive, a sauna with no
door. I preferred the jar, you said. At least
we could see. Immediately we were
surrounded by curved glass erasing the
edges of everything on the other
side, holes punched in the screw-on top above
to give us air. But there is nowhere to
hide, you said, not wanting to be like that
performance artist who lived in a clear
box hung on a wall and defecated
in public behind a towel with a
bucket. I added a kitchen matchbox
on its side, partially opened and filled
with crayon markings like a forgotten
surprise. What shall we do now, you wondered,
that it’s just us and the stagnant air, the
world beyond out of focus, just a range
of shifting blobs changing places, though you
were already sitting down with open
palms, having surrendered to the image.
Author Bio:
Sandra Kolankiewicz's poems and fiction have appeared widely. Turning Inside Out is available from Black Lawrence Press. This past fall, Finishing Line released The Way You Will Go. In March, When I Fell, a novel with 76 illustrations, was released by Web-e-Books.