Tense
By Lesh Karan
Published 9 October 2022
after Claire Gaskin's 'ahead'
The truth of where I am now is cicada-drowned: sullied surround sound. The truth of where I am now is rubber-band flicks in the cochlear: 24-hour snap-crackle-pop in the chamber. The truth of where I am now is white-water-raft fingers: monkeys in the mind steer my hull, then night falls and cracks sleep on my skull. The truth of where I am now is cortisol walking through a fog of fear in the atmosphere, seeking metamorphosis in a chrysalis of therapists. The truth of where I am now is Lesh, do you want to be committed? The truth of where I am now is box-breathing, deflated. The truth of where I am now is Zoloft and iPhone scaffolding the neurons, running from the self-portrait in every reflection. The truth of where I am now is bent-in-prayer for a past tense in the future. If only the truth would switch tunes: sing a lullaby, pacify the lizard pacing in my brain.