Night of Quantica

by Cole McNamara

 

On the night of Quantica
I decided to move different. 
I shifted my limbs in a way
that made me look foolish, they say. 

When Quantica ended, I didn't stop.
My limbs were like putty,
folding and molding.
My mind was like clay,
brittle and cracking. 

Once you know the way,
there is no way back.
So enjoy the journey
forward
and move—
no one is watching. 

Previous: Hearth
Next: Hearth

Leave a comment

Support Tiny Prophecies

Tiny Prophecies is free to read, but a small tip helps cover the cost of keeping it alive.

Any amount is greatly appreciated.