autophobe
i laugh without listening
and cancel all my plans
in black and white
dressing every windshield in dew
i dream of you in bars
in bars
i wake up wallowing
hollow
in all our distances and headaches
every day a virgin hangover
my dry eyes are roof tiles
in wait
for acid to come pouring
out of a cracked ceramic sky
umbrellaless
i cancel plans ’cause of my veins’
caramel sludge cravings ever
clear embers and
candy climbing tumbles
i crumple through the openings
of every suburban sliding glass door
to sear the acoustics of some stranger’s
morning cigarettes
make clouds
and disappear into vapor-burned valleys
i cancel plans ’cause the moon has been full for three months
and the atmosphere’s been seizing grandly
in time to my throat’s theatrics,
in time to the tics of my lighter’s
flickers and clicking calls
that won’t stop
’cause i don’t leave my bed
Jenna Coburn is a senior psychology major and English minor at SUNY Geneseo. She is from the Hudson Valley where she enjoys caring for her cacti, doodling, writing poems, and annoying her family via the guitar. This is her first published work.