fuck does anyone have that poem thats like the speaker used to press her ear to conch shells when she was a child but as an adult the world has closed its second mouth or something
I FOUND IT ITS SANITY BY CAROLINE BIRD
[image text:
Sanity
By Caroline Bird
I do kind gestures. Remove my appendix. I put my ear to a flat shell and—nothing. I play the lottery ironically. Get married. Have a smear test. I put my ear to the beak of a dead bird—nothing. I grow wisdom teeth. Jog. I pick up a toddler’s telephone, Hello?—No answer. I change a light bulb on my own. Organize a large party. Hire a clown. Attend a four-day stonewalling course. Have a baby. Stop eating Coco Pops. I put my ear right up to the slack and gaping bonnet of a daffodil—. Get divorced. Floss. Describe a younger person’s music taste as “just noise.” Enjoy perusing a garden center. Sit in a pub without drinking. I stand at the lip of a pouting valley—speak to me! My echo plagiarizes. I land a real love plus two real cats. I never meet the talking bird again. Or the yawning hole. The panther of purple wisps who prowls inside the air. I change nappies. Donate my eggs. Learn a profound lesson about sacrifice. Brunch. No singing floorboards. No vents leaking scentless instructions. My mission is over. The world has zipped up her second mouth.
/end ID]
