Aphantasia

Marisa Vito

When you envision an apple, is it a clear picture of an apple?

or is it fuzzy, imperceptible. My apple is clear;

the fruit of togetherness

that you and I will never be alone.

When I think about it, yes, I would have accepted

the horse filled with people.

I want to believe I am wise enough

to hear breath inside a body that does not belong to me.

That I could not be fooled by something wrong.

That as long as I accept my own harm, it will come at my own cost.

I draw little moons around your navel

and listen to the celloed sound of your belly

when you ask me what I think of you.

It takes me three moons to know,

you are a good person and kind to me.

I give you the horse problem and you say no,

you would not take the horse.

But what if you know people are inside waiting?

How would I know that? I can’t see inside of it.

But you would be ready.

Why would I set myself up to fail?

I wait for you to say more because I want there to be.

There are times I pull the horse

through the gates. Times I bite

the apple I dream of.

I dreamt of you.

And since I cannot feed on what I cannot touch,

I grab your absence.

MARISA VITO is a queer, Filipinx poet from Southern California. Their writing has appeared in The Spectacle, Mixed Mag, Phyll Magazine, Los Angeles Magazine and Mantis: A Journal of Poetry, Criticism, and Translation.