Bio: Sara Lefsyk is a Monster-goddess of darkness and protection. She is also head Ethel and cosmic seamstress over at Ethel Zine & Micro Press as well as Assistant Editor at Trio House Press. Her full-length collection, We Are Hopelessly Small and Modern Birds, was published by Black Lawrence Press.
I am writing this in the voice of an animal
I am writing this in the voice of an animal while refusing lunch and biting the nurse’s fingers repeatedly. Repeatedly I say: come here and let me show you the best trick I ever learned while strapped to a hospital bed. But my stablemate wakes with her mouth full of moths or she injects herself with deities and then weeps like one. When she unfolds her body toward the ceiling, she says: "in my dreams the house is an elephant riding a diamond. I am saying this as if I am speaking into a tape recorder.” When I speak as if I am speaking into a tape recorder, I say things like: The wind had seemed like a good idea. Like the time I brushed my gown against the animal and a landscape of pheasants over my heart. Once, when I whispered into the ear of an animal I said: I always imagined our eyes would open together. That’s when I spilled a thousand empty moons into an actual forrest of vegetables and tears. I had to.
Here’s my invention:
I enter into a trance. I'm in an ocean but I’m not drowning. If i take a bite of an apple, then I fall asleep inside of the ocean. If I eat the whole apple, then I wake up barely breathing on the kitchen floor, using the voice of an animal and vomiting between the snow. Here’s my other invention: I fall asleep inside of the snow. The snow is falling on Mountain Time. I practice being born. If i can reach my pen i will write you a letter. In continuous landscapes I have practiced the penmanship of an animal. Writing this is supernatural I am trying to write, but it is totally illegible.