WAYS IN WHICH I AM EITHER LIKE THE EARTH, OR A HYPER-REALISTIC LOVE DOLL
The way I feel unsure how much of my smile is me flashing my skull as a peace offering. The way
I’m able to wrap both arms around myself, the parlor trick; the way that, from behind, it looks as
though I’m being embraced, but forwards, I am exaggeratedly, laughably, alone. The way I regard
the words tender and timber as interchangeable. The way I think exchanges of power are sexy until
they are not. The way I muse about being full of heat, of cracking open the sun and counting how
many of me roll out. The way my mouth is either steadfastly peaceable or very, very surprised.
The way I look at my lifelines like train tracks. Train tracks like window frames. Window frames
like vacancies. Hands like loss. The way my eyes gape until, suddenly, I am horizontal and they
then shovel themselves shut and forget to be holes. The way I am at once concrete and
hallucinatory, depending on who’s looking at me. The way that standing still suggests I melt into
myself. The way I
wait.
RaeJeana Brooks is a Florida-born essayist archiving pleasure and connectedness. She is an MFA candidate at Antioch University Los Angeles and has extra fruit in her backpack, for you.