by Valentina Cano

I was supposed to go to the book-fair
a year ago, today.
But it’s impossible to move
when your legs are sea water.
It’s not advisable to speak, either,
when your mouth is speared through with needles.
Neither should you think with a brain
zapping itself into continuous rewind.
So I didn’t go to the book-fair.
I didn’t walk or talk or think.
I sat,
like a basement light.

Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends whatever free time she has either reading or writing. Her works have appeared in numerous publications and her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web. Her debut novel, The Rose Master, will be published in 2014.