a snow globe
in the dark the setting is glassy, globular. my or our compartments untangled, braided in the clear night air. were you following me or vice versa. the memory
has been rewritten in german for further clarity, then erased. in the candlelight, we were still oppressed by stative verbs, and you still wrote me in your black notebooks. or was it the other way around? from above the village, for the nth time, there was a hum of an empty sky, and below, veins. I would like for you to know what this meant, but your side of the map is the snow.
Joshua Wilkerson emerged from the swamps of Houston, Texas to find himself in Brooklyn. He is currently an MFA candidate at CUNY Brooklyn College, where he edits poetry and visual art for the Brooklyn Review
. He tweets, occasionally, @wilkkerson