Posted by Dan Pugh, Poetry reader for issue 4.2
You know that distinct feeling of saying something you immediately regret? The present act of speaking becomes a present tense emergency. Your own fumbled phrase floats forward in garish block letters; you fruitlessly grasp for their serifs. There’s this massive, obnoxious speech bubble hovering adjacent to your own errant mouth and grinning from within it, is a statement you don’t believe in. How did this happen? Things were fine a moment ago! Everyone was chatting and laughing and effortlessly improvising a moment ago! Yet, this moment you’re in a fragile stasis of self-realization: it’s too late to bite your tongue, and your foot’s blocking access anyway. Might as well put on your most endearing shame-face and brace yourself as the room gets a chance to notice you said that. Continue reading