In & Out
The skylight has grayed &
I remember what this was like the last time:
but stuck beating against the border
of the familiar locked window.
Feathers roosting
on the unpolished floor.
Today I flip through magazines
like I can read them &
my brain hasn’t been replaced
by the cotton at the top
of the aspirin jar.
One day I will be the glass
used to draw blood.
The skylight has grayed &
I remember what this was like the last time:
but stuck beating against the border
of the familiar locked window.
Feathers roosting
on the unpolished floor.
Today I flip through magazines
like I can read them &
my brain hasn’t been replaced
by the cotton at the top
of the aspirin jar.
One day I will be the glass
used to draw blood.
Isaac Williams' poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Rust + Moth, The Nervous Breakdown, Potluck Magazine, Punchnel's, and elsewhere. He is a Poetry Reader for The Adroit Journal, and currently studies English at UCLA.