by Laura Zaino

Be careful what you write—one day someone
might read it, and then the inside’s out, and
then what will you do?

… Encapsulated

experience escaped. …

Float your bubble

elsewhere, carry your singular delight,
each passing moment coated in changing
light filtered through all your perfect moods, modes.
Except that nobody ever really
gets it anyway, never really understands;
never enters the kaleidoscope. It’s
built for one, like the flesh that carries you.