Where Am I

Maybe it slips out my ears while I sleep,

the part that's connected to things.
Maybe a mask of cool skin's growing over me -

a little blot of flesh at a time.

Nothing in or out.


I want to grab things and people,

roots on steep riverbanks

but they're blurring too much

I can't feel the difference between 

lukewarm water

and whizzing ghosts.


River's end

a place where nobody lives

only silent lumps of flesh that don't feel a thing.

The sun is cool and damp

in this place

my lover's touch doesn't move me

remembered dead feel imaginary

as a child's unrestrained laughter.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741