In a space devoid of light,
my eyes are met with the same view
both open and closed
The outline of my form dissipates
and I join the greater body
of my cube-shaped room
One thing pierces my passing reality:
the pretty lamp
perched on my bedside
Beads dangle from its shade
and shards of stained glass
illuminate the in-betweens
Silver metals bend
into a twirling nest of wires
containing her home:
The bulb
Inside lives the lamp lady,
with her queen sized bed
and her closet full of dazzling gowns
I can barely tell where her skin ends
and her dress begins—
a silhouette of light
Her voice barely reaches a whisper;
the burn of her touch
scorns me to life
My beautiful lamp lady;
your absence is my greatest fear
Lana Zoraja is a current high school junior with a knack for collecting CDs. She’s often spotted burning her favorite techno albums while drinking unhealthy amounts of cappuccinos. Lana absolutely adores the Final Destination movie series and still gets wary behind log trucks. Her poetry focuses on her relationship with nature, the body, and everything in between. She’s always down to go on a long walk, dance at a hardcore DJ set, or to lay down in silence.
Featured image by Prakhar Kont on Unsplash.
