I see an image online, a head pounds a wall 

& I think, that’s me, I’m the head & the wall 

I’m pounding my head against, I’m all those 

apartments in my dreams that are so difficult 

to get into, narrow stairways & tiny trap doors 

mazes of rooms opening one into another 

& another, twisting corridors & hidden exits 

& all those cities I get lost in again & again 

dark streets & broken down vehicles & 

I’m always alone, even in crowded markets & 

sometimes there is music

sharon brogan | march 02020