The Tyranny of the Concrete

One person watched the deer.
Tea cooled on the table.
Her dress clung to her legs.

The river had no boats.
The school was out of pens.
One picture, five pictures,

How many could thoughts hold?
The deer lifted its head.
She sipped her lukewarm tea.

You feel it, too, don’t you?
Silk static on her skin
When she recrossed her legs.

Why weren’t there any boats?
This was a schoolhouse. Why
Couldn’t she write something?

The whole scene bothered her.
It was like she never
Existed before words.