Re-runs of an Eerie Sun by Emmie Christie

A large tree in the middle of green woodland. Large white text reads: Re-Runs of an Eerie Sun. Smaller text reads: Discussing disabled characters in fairy tales and folklore.

Perhaps an existential crisis
Shook the universe’s mind,
And sent out blasted aftershocks
To certain human vines--
Those coupled with the cosmic
Tropic, all matted
In the dense, humid questions
We utter in the quiet.
The eerie sun rolls out re-runs
And charges the same fee.
A seventh grader gets a 116
Percent on her paper, and cries
In the closet because
That’s what she wanted, and now
What?
It can be triggered by nothing,
A button tearing off a coat,
And pop! Freedom! Wandering,
Wondering. Where’s everyone going?
A planet-sized pied piper plays
But the song stops in my ear,
I pull out a hearing aid,
And forget what
The point is.
And it’s hard to force it back in,
It’s hard to settle the brain back in,
When I’ve heard the booming silence
Of the cloudless sky,
And asked what’s the meaning of walking,
Of pushing the muscles upwards
When every movement seems inane,
Insane, incredulous,
Laughable and ridiculous,
No—even laughing seems meaningless—!
For what are jokes, but pointing at mirrors?
But I digress.
Does this confession
Rattle anyone? Tear a button off a coat? 
Don’t leave me out in the eerie sun
I can’t be the only one
Drifting all afloat.

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About the author:
Emmie Christie’s work includes practical subjects, like feminism and mental health, and speculative subjects, like unicorns and affordable healthcare. She has been published in various short story markets including Ghost Orchid Press, Infinite Worlds Magazine, and Flash Fiction Online. She graduated from the Odyssey Writing Workshop in 2013. You can find her at www.emmiechristie.com.