Alice Askew
There's the feeling of something askew—my highback chair not quite where I left it. The torn upholstery has opened the internal organs of what was once my vessel to strange and enchanted lands, where I traveled, immersed in languages from distant seas.
My mind reels. Eyes roll. Body sails around the tea that didn’t spill. The pen that didn’t slip. And yet I fell into the dark depths of online streaming, where spineless books avert my gaze. Truth lost among the flowers painted red. Mad machinations of curious worlds—of sanity, twisting. All influence lost to Tik-Tok reasoners.
A tiny door beside the hearth, where paw prints grow small. Under tree-tall mushrooms, home and heart swell. Unnatural trajectories to guide my way, or no way. Whose way? The way to relent under the yaw and roll. All things missed and misspent. By the way, have you seen the cat?
— Dean Bowman
Author's Note:
I should mention that no actual tea was harmed in the making of this poem, though several pens were briefly suspected of insubordination. The TikTok reasoners referenced herein are entirely fictional and any resemblance to actual algorithmic overlords is purely coincidental. Side effects of reading may include temporary furniture displacement and an inexplicable urge to check on household pets.
Dean Bowman