By Sujash Purna
One Day in the Life of a Daydreamer The blue book with Whitman’s face peers at me with the graphically enhanced shadow of doubt. I don’t learn to sing, but to dream with my eyes open, no captain for a borderline personality disorder. My name is not on the list on the back of the paperback because I am still processing the pandemic, a fever dream: A pentagram tattooed across her back, a poet writes in couplets about men becoming monsters in kaiju defects, but I continue teaching my class, masks on, fortunately, or I would have Zoomed in from a hospital bed if there’s any left. I remember $3 reading fee and a gut-punch knowing I don’t earn a living for five months, living stimulus to stimulus. Today I didn’t wince over my breakfast for the hunger to be an invisible name trying so bad to be visible on the back- a tattoo or a blue book with others- graphically enhanced, perhaps shadowed by age, pressed gently by the fingertips of a lover.
Sujash Purna, born is Bangladesh, is a graduate student at Missouri State University. His poetry appeared in South Carolina Review, Hawai`i Pacific Review, Kansas City Voices, Poetry Salzburg Review, English Journal, Stonecoast Review and others. He has a chapbook collection Epidemic of Nostalgia from Finishing Line Press.
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