It’s as if the Wall Were Transparent – Kenton K. Yee
Actually it’s a drawing
of a room glued onto
a larger drawing of a wall,
both flat, both arrangements,
curls and shadows
on canvas that
were you to enter
heart and gut would follow,
leaving behind depth and time.
The taste of a nickel dipped in mayo,
the eek-eek of floorboards.
No space, no motion nor weight
but angles, shades, intersections,
a window
with white for panes.
The eek-eek of floorboards,
the taste of mayo on a nickel,
caw-caw, caw-caw
from behind the panes,
blackbirds imagined
outside the room you
have entered without entering,
yourself within.
![Kenton K. Yee Kenton K. Yee](http://www.parenthesesjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Kenton-K.-Yee-150x150.jpg)
Kenton K. Yee recently placed poetry in Constellations, Plume Poetry, The Threepenny Review, Sugar House Review, Rattle, Stanford’s Mantis, The Indianapolis Review, Berkeley Poetry Review, LIGEIA Magazine, and Cutthroat: A Journal of the Arts, among others. Kenton writes from northern California and consults in artificial intelligence.