Isolation Pseudo Grind, Linda Rivas Vázquez
Beat your alarm and lay in bed until it rings
pace around the house. hiss at the paintings
of generic flowers you don’t know who picked out
listen to them remind you, you’re here
temporarily
Go ahead. rearrange the furniture again
move those satin cushions
back in the closet at the end of the hall
where your grandmother stowed trinkets
or what she found no place for
listen to her laugh: people deserve couch space
pillows do not
Go ahead. water the plants
shave your legs. rare. almost celebratory.
cut your bangs
make small talk with the neighbor from the yard
call family you talk to only on holidays
funerals and weddings
think of the next wedding you’ll attend
think of the next funeral you’ll attend
change your outfit to appear more boyish
change your outfit to appear more girlish
listen to the birds on your walk of redundant destination
download an app trying to figure out the bird’s species
get mad at yourself for being sad.
there are those who have it worse
your mom
your brother
still grindin’
in restaurants,
your friends
tiptoeing around a stranger’s porch
to drop off food the owners are too afraid to get
remind yourself: “self-compassion”
damn instagram therapy pages
everything’s gonna be O.K.
Linda Rivas Vázquez is an M.F.A. candidate at the Texas State Writing program. She is bad at writing bios but good at finding strange objects on sidewalks and snuggling her dog Chanchis. She is co-founder and editor of the Infrarrealista Review and current Fellow for the Center of the Study of the Southwest.
Photography by Nathan Bailey