Stela Zaharieva, Hide and Seek (Artist Website, Instagram)
Photograph
Tiny monster whirring in the dungeon
of small delights. Screwed to a wood post
at the bottom of the cellar stairs and force fed
by the hands of a child who cranked your tail.
Razor teeth. Belly crammed with sawdust. You
were my mascot for all things bookish,
arty and away. Your burnished sides glowed
as you growled in the half-light that leaked
through the basement window. Little metal beast.
I might have broken my neck a thousand times,
rushing to you on those steps—
For the pleasure of a finely honed point
on a Number 2 lead as it touched a fresh page.
For lines to unspool and thicken beneath
my fingers, my warm breath. My curly
words espaliered on the guidewires of ruled paper.
For cross-hatched strokes to shade the underside
of a peach. You taught me how to open a thing,
empty its innards into the rubbish bin,
then muscle open the storm door and exit
into the conjured scents of cut grass and diesel.