Flesh formed bow

The chair I am sitting in sprouts a fifth leg
and I feel shaky and imbalanced.

The sky turns from blue to green.

There is a small child sitting cross-legged
in front of me, facing me.

I remember seeing him yesterday
in a different room, standing.

Someone behind me starts to cry.
I don’t turn around.
I stare at the boy from yesterday.

He asks,
“When did I arrive?”
He looks up at the now yellow sky and speaks again.
“Was I late?”

I reach out my hand but I can only
graze the tip of his nose with my fingernails.

Part of his nose falls away as his nostrils
become larger and blacker,
creating two holes in the direct center of his face.

Three seconds later a faceless child sits
cross-legged in front of me.

He speaks again, but this time with his hands.
“The sky looks like the sea today.”

Above our heads the yellow has morphed
into a brownish orange as blue hints at the corners,
threatening a comeback.

I look back down at a pair of legs,
crossed at the ankles,
staring at me
silently
like a flesh formed bow.

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