June 20, 2025
Alexander Nolla
HRAFNI saw a raven fleet across the fatty candlelight,
ochrous-smeared along the bends and ridges
of my cavern’s birth canal.
I hear the rain’s sclerotic fingers rapping on
the shuttered sill—taste the lisping amber of
the streetlight, tonguing on my lid.
I reach for my phone to forget for a moment
that I am alone, but I see flames and flattened
buildings through flying limbs of art.
Content cut and weighed in hearts and eyes.
A storied flash: the blurring of a scattered child.
Do I protest by liking? Or am I heartless
if I don’t?
Most of all, I’m feeling nothing, except that
feeling clawing at my ribs, that from this life
I want but one thing, and that’s to
feel and feel and feel,
and be counted as a
human being.