September 14, 2015 | Occasus | Issue 5 | Fiction

A Piece Written on a Wednesday Night:  Approximately 7:40 PM

My body built from every word ever spoken, ever seen ....  My leg the word
"despondent" ... My eye containing the whole of "Othello" in its cornea.  .... But what
happens to these letters, these words, when I walk? ... Do they jamb ...  pull ... 
fade  ... Where do these words go when I am reading, when I am writing? ...  Into my skin ... Shifting down through epidermal layers until settling like silt at the bottom of ponds ...
My body is an algorithm ... Constantly running ... Always reacting, never creating ... I am
not myself but some kind of apparatus of myself - an acrobat; consonants and
prepositions crumpling in on themselves ... Enveloping me into some kind of primordial
womb ... And while I am writing this I am thinking how stupid I sound ... And you are
sitting there watching a re-run of The Simpsons.

A Sonnet

Repeat this line when it is done
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
"                                               "
Do not repeat this line,
The poem is over.[1]

_____________________________________________________________________
[1] Go back to the beginning.

RAYNA ABERNETHY is a third year student at Western currently pursuing an Honors Specialization in English Language and Literature with a minor in Creative Writing.