2 September 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 3
Ruined Light Prologue
The sun's rays are rotting,
while multicolored neon spots in my vision
throb and constrict:
Another summer Tuesday and I'm aimless,
sleepy in the dry backyard, mind occupied
by dreams of blotter acid and sodomy. When I
try to sit up, chest tingling where the heat baked it,
I feel incipient resistance in the atmosphere, like a
huge damp hand cupping my whole body
and holding me down quietly, insistently.
The light takes a sickly golden tinge as it begins to rot,
and it becomes tangible, like watered honey or thin
amber gelatin between my fingers.
I decide to retreat inside,
because the bad light on my body
is a crawling, palpated,
anti-erotic sensation.
About the author:
Nick Antosca, a native of New Orleans and a product of public schools, is a sophomore at Yale. His poems and fiction have appeared or are scheduled to appear in the Antietam Review, the Paumanok Review, Stirring, Retort Magazine, the Adirondack Review, Blue Monk Press, Verse Libre Quarterly, Three Candles, Red River Review, Small Spiral Notebook, Pierian Springs, Erosha, Sendecki, and USA Weekend online, among others. He recently finished writing his first novel (available to publishers in Autumn 2002) and can be contacted at nicholas.antosca@yale.edu.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Nick Antosca at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 2, No. 3, where "Ruined Light Prologue" ran on September 2, 2002. List other work with these same labels: poetry.
