Anna Meister

*

I risk a ring on the coffee table, so carelessly avoiding
the coaster. I have given myself permission to be

a monster in little ways. I keep my eyes
closed, as if rolling out roads and walking blocks

of the oldest neighborhood, the one distance allowed me
not to hate. I am retracing routes I remember, wonder

how long they’ll keep. Ignoring the cat’s want
for his bowl filled, a list of groceries or goals made

in hopes of proving I am centered, here. I am gathering
evidence for what’s at stake. There’s a quiz to take

about the color of my energy. Dissatisfied as I am
with lavender, I don’t know what I’d hoped for.



originally published in Vanilla Sex Magazine