By Anna Royle – Creative Writing Editor
The world is a set
and one day it will fall away,
the scaffolding holding my apartment walls
will fold out backwards
like the collapsing of a story book.
The man whos holding the moon
on a fishing rod will get a cramp in his bicep
and itll wobble,
forcing him to take a break—
The glow replaced by a glaring studio lamp.
You will swig from a water bottle
before walking over to a woman
who dabs your face with a makeup brush.
And Ill be left standing alone,
with the feeling,
of when youve hosted a party
and everyone first leaves,
the stress lifted—
at the lip-stick stained cups
and paper plates