the work of my eyelids is not noisy.
objects emerge as vague shapes,
then their edges sharpen,
inviting me into communion.

     about the shelf on the wall—
     to me, the shelf is flat,
     but from the shelf’s perspective,
     isn’t it a desperate act of standing upright?

next door, they’re raising a wall.
& before the cement hardens,
a name is written.
for days now, the humid weather persists,
& the name, like a transparent tattoo,
clings to the skin.

     if the skin is the first greeting to the world,
     I feel I’ve failed

     but if a cup, untouched,
     suddenly slips—
     would you trust the cup?
     or the slipping?

     even when I close my eyelids,
     the eyes that refuse to close—
         watch me for a long time.

by Robin Wyatt Dunn, with Perchance                             

JS Choi is a passionate high school student. Her work has previously been published or is forthcoming in Altered Reality Magazine, Academy of Heart and Mind, and Culterate Magazine.