after Joy Harjo and Izumi Shikibu
Someone added an arm to the clock,
then another, and now
my eyes are caught,
staring at the invisible ceiling
at night. But I’m re-learning
to love the quiet corners
filled with ink-like smoke.
My rib cage is a ruined house,
and moonlight
leaks in.
–
Conny Borgelioen is an odd seabird, living on the Belgian coast. She has a Sisyphean rock called chronic fatigue syndrome and works part-time in a social grocery. Her writing has appeared in Tint Journal, Kaleidoscope, Rogue Agent, Feral, Babyteeth, t’ ART, and the Emma Press Anthology of Illness.
© 2025, Conny Borgelioen
Halfway Down the Stairs 