Hominidae or Homo Sapiens
This is the side of my face that he sees when I sob in therapy. I look out the large
windows and realize I’m self-conscious of my crying, of the emotions that I lock
up and release for him. A fully clothed peep show. I speak in words that I don’t
even think of, they come from a place where there is no description, only trees
and dirt, the other animals scurry around my body. Walking upright from the
office is my greatest achievement. I am energy and rotation, habit and language.
I drive a vehicle back to my brick townhouse that wind cannot strike down.
Process and need drown me down into surfaces I never clean. My hands, what I
use to clap when I approve, clap when I’m angry, excited, they are intricately
moving like I was never taught, they are making the shapes and scooping up
the grain for others, so we can eat another day.
Sarah Lilius lives in Arlington, VA with her two sons, husband, and Ophelia the cat. Some places she’s been published are Fourteen Hills, Boulevard and forthcoming in the Massachusetts Review and New South. Her website is sarahlilius.com.