A Place For Prose:
Tamara Nazywalskyj /2
A prose poem from a daydreamer on sunshine, love, and thoughts of elsewhere
Seasonal Tilt Disorder
By Tamara Nazywalskyj
L’hiver ça tue and the camera rolls pictures of June in my mind like therapy. I have never been to therapy but someone somewhere knows the contents of my envelope. Climates changing along with my mood hormonal seesaw see me, saw me in half, there you go and off, you left me down tonight and the only thing nice is this night for an airplane, up. Take my books to the beach and watch them jaundice sea air remember how it hits and glides kite surfers. The anchor slips through my fingers it is a sunburn out at sunset. Burn me at both ends because I want to see you soon. Every time I shower I feel my face will be different and I hate that I was made with all of these feelings. Things are dry now on the Avenue do you remember when it felt like ice? Transplant me – rip me from my soil if heart in another body so sure it beats for you. Wait, am I talking about you too much? I know it’s all in my brain but good thing I know just where. I think that my misery dies in company so of busy I will smell; the whiff of distraction saves me from myself. Overnight sensation like the quick growth of cut grass, you’ve been gone a day, and I pronounced dead like a mayfly and is this what 23 is supposed to be? Relou like a wolf in love – there, I said it. Not in French but in my mother tongue falls out of the mouth. Seashells hear the shells in my voice travelling through a tunnel, two more weeks and nice it will be for an airplane, up!
Read also: other works by Tamara Nazywalskyj