The albatross in question
The albatross in question is a silly bird.
It never sleeps.
I can hear it flapping its wings at night.
This constant flapping creates a draft.
It chills my bones, it sweeps through my mind
until all that’s left is a pair of wings
flapping.
This keeps me awake at night.
All because there is an albatross living inside me.
All because I feed it.
I can’t let it starve.
Can I?
Clandestine
If I was a tarot card,
I would be the high priestess.
I would live my life
between secret handshakes and clandestine libraries.
I would sit all day upon my throne.
I would eat pomegranate seeds,
receiving the ones who have travelled from afar
in order to gain some wisdom from me.
Then I would refuse to answer any questions,
raising my eyes, indicating that
Heaven only knows.
Then I would proclaim that I was too tired,
that all these questions have left me exhausted.
Then I would lock my door, so that I could finally
read the book that had been hiding
inside my sleeve.
That would be my dream job.
That would be a life worth living.
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