by Laura Merleau
Saved by the empty
sky. Saved by the
formless triangular
notes absently playing
over the clouds.
Without looking
up. Without listening.
You know another
you among your
repertoire of yous.
The sky flickers and
stops again. It
is like screaming,
Dammit! but nobody
tells you to calm
down, there’s no
reason to get so
upset over nothing,
over nothing, over
this sinking feeling
you may have to
live forever.
Laura Merleau lives in Texas with her mother, sister, and puppy Gracie. She taught AP Language and Composition at a high school in China for five years, during which time she visited Tibet and made it to Mount Everest Base Camp. Laura enjoys doing yoga and writing and illustrating children’s books.