ABBIE HAMBLETON

[Microtransactions]

(the concrete nature of this poem lies completely in its shape. The shape of the poem is perfectly rectangular. Almost like a monolith. Spaces have been placed in irregular places to force this perfect shape.)

a map couldn’t pinpoint the [source]

burning [empty] cavernous    nothing

nothing  live//s    breath//es when I wasn’t

using my words I was still [stole]

communicating something// [someone]//

but no one could hear [here] eyes those

eyes those          vulture eyes beading

watching locks away from doors doors

that locked themselves [myself]    locked

in here [there] and gone somewhere my

skin is fire aching flames hidden [hidden

there] there I am //please// I am

somewhere I am but I wish I was        

                                           [     //     gone     //     ]