I am capable of drawing two pictures and writing two poems. Like other automata, it appears that I’m operating under my own power, but I’m not. I’m controlled by the outside things. The cold weather makes my eyes sting and tear, so I grieve for last summer. Last night at dusk, the highest icy clouds—the evaporated feelings of day, arched over the sky like a dinosaur’s backbone and ribs. It made me stand in its belly and draw my two pictures and write my two poems.
With an undergraduate degree in sculpture and a J.D. from Dickinson Law School, Carla Myers followed the most logical path to becoming a writer. This year she retained a significant number of body parts, but not as many as she had hoped. She lives in central Pennsylvania.