by Zofia Provizer
Zofia Provizer received a Bachelor’s degree in Creative Writing and Women and Gender Studies from Lesley University, has been published in A Velvet Giant, Nixes Mate, Construction Lit Magazine, Epigraph Magazine, MockingHeart Review, Commonthought, and Lesley University’s literary magazine, and has read in Červená Barva Press’s reading series. Zofia's poetry collection Lose Sight of Heaven was published with Nixes Mate in spring 2020. Zofia is passionate about pop culture and the relationship we have to our bodies. Zofia doesn’t always believe in memories, but believes in the feelings they leave behind.
[i switch on the car]
i switch on the car: radio: my watermelon tongue: my throat online: on fire: drive through rollerblades: the highway is long and lonely and i can’t drive: i play long way down: i hog the aux cord: no one is listening: i sleep in my dead grandmother’s bed: i close the brown shades: i lay for days in her pink: room: it matches mine: i open and close the closet doors: i hang clothes up: i play with the pins: i take down the mirror: i cover it with tape: i hear the backyard and i refuse to look out the window: i don’t want to go back to my bedroom: i don’t want to go home: i sing in the empty room: it is like: a scream: i take pictures of the hard-wood floor: in the parking lot next door i am driving my father’s seafoam car: there were ghosts in this house: there were ghosts in Oklahoma: all of them lived: under dining room tables: all of them sat in the crystal glasses: all of them clung to the back: of my radiator: none of them lay across mountains like: i do: none of them drink sprite: none of them have their own: pink walls: