by Priya Logan
Ruskin and the Infinite Closet
He’d always thought closets were
manifestations of the psyche,
so wouldn’t shut the door at first.
He’d step to the edge of the light,
open his mouth to taste emptiness.
After he grew comfortable,
he’d bring twine to bind himself
to the knob so he could close
the door, explore the dark.
The things he rubbed against
upset him less than puddles
he stepped into occasionally.
He loved creeping into this closet
until he dreamed he’d reached
the end of his twine and it
slipped from his fingertips.
He woke from this cauchemar
into light he could never leave.
Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. Jack’s work has appeared in Southern Review, Pidgeonholes, The Shore, Okay Donkey, EcoTheo, The Hopper, Terrain, and other journals. His latest collection is Color All Maps New (Mercer University Press, 2021). He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.
Priya Logan is a mother of three growing children, who gardens, writes and draws sporadically to declutter the strands of thoughts that get intermingled with hers. She loves connecting with people, learning about divergent ideas and pottering with discarded objects. Watercolour is an exciting medium that she is sometimes intimidated by but always draws her in.