PENDULUM

Being a freshman in London is a carnival
of beer and influenza, my liver
accelerating its own rituals,
dutifully sponging up remnants like
an overworked housewife. Each morning
I would drown aspirin with
filtered water, its coughs of nonchalance
waking me up, delaying
the solitude that is mistaken
for independence. After dinner the cycle
relapses, hair and clothes amok
on the dance floor, and when kissing
becomes too much of a drug
I would feel like I’m back home, light
collecting at the sill, the day’s entirety
laid bare to convince me
that this is not how to end.

::First published in pressboardpress.

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