I want a life where I feel strange and intimate
with the border between the real and unreal
and still get to eat. I’m trying not to think
of staring out at the world as stealing a moment
because my time is mine and capitalism
is a fucking liar. My hands ache for dark gold beads,
a loom, and a few days of loneliness,
or forever. What use was taking my life back
if I can’t lie down and taste it?
Eating an ice cream sandwich in bed
with my blue hair I breathe, I breathe,
Layne Ransom continues to exist. She is a former poetry editor of Bat City Review and has poetry and nonfiction published or forthcoming in North American Review, Quaint Magazine, Pinwheel, and others. Layne lives in Austin, Texas.