by Tyson Higel
“I’m gonna take the train caboose to the Puget Sound.” — Wet Hot American Summer
What if I said I’m tired of the sun?
Of all the damn monotony of light-filled days?
Always the same perfect weather,
and always a guilt that’s felt
for not going outside in the rays of optimism.
Call me crazy, but I like a self-made prison
with all I need:
books with stories to read,
movies to watch on television.
Rid me of any decision to go outside.
Give me uncompromising rain,
or sleet, or anything that will force
my hermit-self to abide by it,
indoors.
Maybe I need to go north.
Tyson Higel (he/him) began writing poetry in search of fluent self-expression, something he struggles with as a person who stutters. It’s on the page that Tyson found his voice, with poems of his having appeared in York Literary Review, redrosethorns and Rabble Review, among others. His chapbook Confessions of a Stutterer (Finishing Line Press, 2024) is forthcoming in September.