Quite Contrary
 
There is a fine
line between apathy and hope.
I fight
for better mileage
with us: too quickly
we lose inertia,
like a child
log-rolling without
a tall enough slope.
 
The crepe line flutters
in a breeze of conflict.
 
We flip between like finicky
cats flitting between two owners—
where we get the most attention
is where we curl up for a nap.
 
Losing Grip
 
I have stars
swirling in my
head and, maybe
it’s the trees but
I can’t seem to see
the way out.
 
All the thoughts I
bought and sold have
come back to haunt me.
They have grown,
expanded here until they take
up too much room—
infinite room.
 
My head is spinning.
 
I am too old
for this and too young.
Push, pull me
quietly, trust me, run
to me, run somewhere
else to reach me.
 
Underneath, I am much more
vulnerable than I seem.
 


Hannah Stuart is still trying to figure out just what you do with a BA in English. In her spare time she enjoys telling stories about people and places that don’t exist, yelling at the tiny hockey players that live inside her tv, and tweeting far too often.