— a poem by Sadie Miller

Let us put on our masks
And dance around each other like snakes.
This is my skin today. Tomorrow I might look different.
Decisions, decisions.
I think I will go to sleep in the leaves
And find myself a new face.
Your dirty brown eyes touch me more than fingers.
I don’t want your attention any more.
Retain your dignity.
Filthy pigeons.
One down, everyone else to go.
I like the white pages, endless possibilities.
So cold, I am on fire!
I want to be in the water, to swim past the bones clicking together with the tides.
I want to swim into the dark places that were once filled with light.
So much space
I can hardly breathe.
Full of clouds
Swallow them down.
Dreams keep us afloat.
Paper bags in the river.
The girl with too much eyeliner
Someone on the phone.
Speaking a language I don’t understand.
Don’t look at me.
Grooved seats
Imprints of life
Keep it moving
Even if nothing is moving
Except the trees outside
And the occasional car over the bridge.
Long hair makes the lady
Lipstick lights the way.
Eyebrow arch
To shelter under.
Mascara, magic wand.
Add more, to start the bond.
Coffee catching down the back of my throat.
So much silence.
So much noise.
Empty seats between you and me.
Keep it that way. 

Sadie Miller has previously published her mother's autobiography through Aurum Press. This year, she has a short story being published as part of an anthology by Snowbooks, and has another short story appearing in a forthcoming issue of Prole Magazine.