I feel the feather-light touch of the sphere as it rotates inside my chest. I am three dimensions.
My soul is four.
Let me explain:
It is as though I touched the sides of a rotating sphere within the confines of two dimensional space. My mind drags, my mind holds on. My mind finds the spinning terrifying. My mind wants to settle in one spot. It wants to believe that I am truly flat. It wants to believe that I am the snapshot of all the rotations, that I am captured in a photograph, that at any moment I am the exact sum of all my parts. But that isn’t true. I am the rotation. The rotation is the reason I exist.
I must let myself rotate.
Christina Scott is a graduate of the MFA writing program at Sarah Lawrence College. Her work has appeared in Spry Literary Journal, The Quotable, and Riding Light. She currently resides in Westchester County, New York, and teaches English at a local college.
Cover Photo: “Planet Juggler” by Eugenia Loli (http://eugenialoli.tumblr.com)