Illusory by Robert Beveridge

I had thought I looked out
over fields, grass that stretched
between horizons. But when I entered
I found myself encased in crystal walls.
Or perhaps I have that wrong:

I had thought I looked out
on a hallway, straight and smooth,
that stretched forever. But when you
took my hand and pressed it up
against the steel, it passed right through.


Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in The Literary Yard, Big Windows, and Locust, among others.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s