By Court Ludwick

Morning of the twen­ti­eth, there is a uni­verse on my wall. Just kidding it is only a burning square of light. Just kidding it is not quite burning. In the square, there are shadows of swaying leaves. Just kidding I own no trees. In the light, there is the wind that doesn’t come. Just kidding you cannot see what isn’t there. Just kidding yes you can. And of course the window is locked, but my hair is moved by some­thing that can only be talked about in frac­tions. Just a bit. I tuck a decimal behind my ear. Then sud­den­ly, some­thing makes me shiver. But only just, only slight­ly, only just kidding I am the one doing all this, holding a fractal up to the sun.

This poem orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 20. Support local book­sellers and inde­pen­dent pub­lish­ers by order­ing a print copy of the mag­a­zine.

Photo by Dominik Scythe