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Writer's pictureJamie Andersen Fields

sonnets to my cerebellum

i.

i lie in bed for hours, imagine fish-

soft bodies writhing weightless, water bound

but fluid, flowing water, boundless abyss

enriches, holds them gently, never drowns


imagine this is us! imagine hope

beside our open window breathing slow

imagine feeling rested when we’ve woke

imagine never stopping, going with the flow

instead, goldfish, once confined, overgrow, then jump the side-

get stuck, and pressure grows and grows until

the moon beneath my skin consumes the tide

for you are full, and i am never filled

and you are full, and i am emptied out

and you are full, and i, an empty mouth

ii.

i lie in bed for hours, imagine fish- 

soft bodies writhing weightless, unlike us- 

snake biting our own tail, skin and bone bound abyss  

full but still filling, cycling, growing denser, tighter. 


we could be fish if i were boundless- 

instead you play the moon and consume the tide 

beneath my skin. me, i lie outside the shower 

begging for water, begging for kinder bones. 


if i did this to you, you did it to me ten-fold; 

if i narrowed the river, you damned it 

if i pushed you down, you took me by the skull 

and slammed us into the void like cement.  


you become full, and i am emptied out 

until you are parched and i am drowned. 

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