top of page

In Mind's Eye

  • Ann Wallace
  • Feb 20, 2020
  • 1 min read

Published in Trillium, Volume 12



This place is a box,

The walls the width of a retina.

The screen shows familiar things

That I can’t recognize.

At what point am I allowed

To yank the handle

Of the unlocked door,

Or do I pretend to belong

To this cell until it dies?

Or maybe

I use this prison to scream

Echoes to the world

Of what exists within,

Yet without,

The tangible.

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


Post: Blog2_Post

©2020 by Art Nova. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page