300 Words on Indecision
BY SARAH LISOVICH.
Ban the phrase “I don’t know,” from my mouth. Parent myself to drink a tub of soap when indecision lights a lymph node. I have traveled across this whole town (and that includes Asteroid B-612) asking how does one make a decision? And the flower said, “will it bring you sunlight so that you may produce pollen for the bees?” And the devil asked, “will it give you hell so that you may reign?” And if I turn right, I will tame the lion with eight heads as my eye sockets deplete to their core. And if I turn left, I will feel the wind and fall to my knees for fruit flies to lead me back to Caravaggio. And option a) I am a deflated balloon and option b) I might burst or float away. One is buckle up and press this body into something new, and two is an existential crisis over the way hair is already dead once it makes its way out of your skin. And either way, the other is lost. When the cook asks, “why do you want to be a cook?” I think oh no (not that there's anything wrong with that, but), I must have misspoken. I want to be a vision of a star from earth that has already burst. So I correct him, “I think it is nice to make something with your hands and feed people.” When I roll and place seven hours worth of takoyaki balls, I count in Russian. I recite what I remember of the bedtime story of the hedgehog and the sea. Next time I will start every story with “once upon a time a few days ago.” When they meet, their peaks and their curves fit together. Everytime I leave, I think, “goodbye forever.”
Sarah Lisovich is a writer and artist based in Chicago, Illinois. Her work is informed by a croissant she ate earlier, the hospitality industry, body language, and interpersonal relationships. Her poetry has previous been published in print and online publications such as Hooligan Magazine, Zoomoozophone Review, and Queen Mob's Teahouse. You can keep up with her on Instagram @newt_in_town.