The Future is a Spoon
by Sarah T. Jewell

My face looks upside down
in the curve of it. I sit on a train 
backwards, I look out the window 
as the world flashes red. I don’t know 
where I am going, I miss my home, 
now as small as a bug. 

I don’t use the spoon to stir my coffee, 
mixing the brown and white. I don’t 
crack an egg with the rim of it. I focus 
on the metal of the spoon, willing it to wilt, 
to melt with the power of my thoughts. I want 
it to droop like the head of an old rose.

The spoon stays solid and inscrutable.
The present is a fork and I bite
into the moment. The past is a knife,
it cuts into me. 

Scoop out the brains of the monkey,
calls the spoon, this is a delicacy.
As I taste them, the prions warp
my mind into a new shape.
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About barkingsycamores 183 Articles
Barking Sycamores is a literary journal entirely edited and operated by queer neurodivergent people of color. We publish poetry, artwork, short fiction (beginning with Issue 3), creative nonfiction (beginning with Issue 8), and hybrid genre work (beginning with Issue 9) by emerging and established neurodivergent writers as well as essays on neurodiversity and literature and book reviews (beginning with Issue 10).

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