sleep will not come easy, not with you coiled up in the corner, pistons ready to fire, metal straining against metal, every muscle tensed, like a horse before the bell. you sit in the corner near
the crack of the attic door. that is the place where we think the mice come out at night. no, sleep will not come easy. i’m scared to think of myself at last falling asleep and then being yanked awake by a deafening snap. Grady Trexler is a high school student in Richmond, Virginia.
I think of the dull mechanical displacement of the train station, the countenance of dead clocks in a placid bar before dark. Geese are outside with their beady eyes chewing petals like bloody sinews, and the fish shift like the encroachment of frost on a window... this subtle, transitory bliss. The city is calm as a rock,
the rain steadfastly shifting on a stump of oak (the great clangs of the iron pendulum blossom to ominous dongs), and I am not quite here. J.B. is an Engl