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  • Writer's pictureVirginia Kovach


(a poem)

God gave humans a brain each:

an awkward noodly mass you could almost cup

with two palms — a gray-purple slime of sorts

It has folds: surface area for connections

upon connections upon connections

Conclusions are pasted on the insides such as:

  1. Birthday cake candles are waxy and bright pink.

  2. Balloons and birthday cards and paper cups: also bright.

  3. The world must be bright for me.

I have accumulated many conclusions

about the light in candles and the wax they are made of,

and lots and lots and lots of things about pink

conclusions that have been painted by synaptic

brushes — a palimpsest of personhood

I don't know anymore

that the world is bright for me, but I know

it is mine — or at least that my life is mine

and worthy of the space it takes,

and the painful etchings on my mind from

my anxious self that have insisted otherwise

have been out-logicked and outdone.

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