Gabriela Poma

The sleeping pills had finally worn off.

Her left eye opened, a slit, and she remembered to breathe.

Yo no entiendo nada de esto.

The world seemed on its side, wrong, as she viewed it then.  Everything around her was new and nothing really belonged to her and, yet, she had to make it all familiar.

She scanned the room—

a recliner next to the window, the television still on, the armoire, two lamps, the ordinary bedding, the awful green carpet, the silver-streaked wallpaper with silhouettes of sleek bamboo shafts.

She had taken an inventory of all the things in the bedroom and repeated the order back to herself over and over again.  Then, she noticed her rings scattered like rolled dice on one of the bedside tables.  It was all there they way she’d left it the night before.

Her eyes … Read More »