Three Rooms, No Broom

Fringe ArtsPoemSteven Gao — Published November 4, 2025 1 minute

A lone ghost peddler on a unicycle

Out there.

I reconcile with my spirit

Through the mirror:

An image lingers,

Bouncing between the walls

An eerie, frugal goblin plucks the string,

Hopping under the bed:

A mischievous bogeyman mockingly leaps.

I recollect dreams, I rework thoughts

A cold breeze intrudes, whistling

Piercing through the moonlit crack

A roaring kettle rattles like a snake

Sounds that twirl inside me

Blankets shiver, swirling.

I imagine another self,

A laser beam, flaming,

Turning me to stone—

But my memories spiral on

This article originally appeared in Volume 46, Issue 5, published November 4, 2025.