© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2012
I thought I was human. But I am nobody, I am nothing. I am the one you saw sitting alone in the lunch room, alone on the bus, curled alone on the bench, alone. I watch through the restaurant window, I watch the light of home through the windows as I pass at night. I watch from the dark corners of the concrete streets and overpasses. I watch from the odd jobs and midnight shifts, from the mud and ditch, from no job. I see you eat your trendy food, I don’t have your trendy food, I don’t have food, I don’t have your latest fashion, any fashion, your shoes, I don’t have shoes. I die on your streets, I die in heaps, I die across the way, across the ocean, I die buried in the news that never was, I die unburied. I don’t have your straight teeth and perfect skin, and make up and botox and your obsession lip gloss, and ombre hair.
You don’t see me even when you pass by as I clean your filth, and grow your food fed by my bones and my life, stitch your clothing made with my burning flesh. You don’t see me as you tap your text to pound the nails in my coffin if I am so lucky to have one instead of the heap of garbage I pick through to find the remains of me in the remains from you.
But I see you. I see you as you ogle your mirror, ogle your obsession-you, trying to drink in what waning light remains in your reflection of non-reflection. You never see me. I am the dark undercoating of your mirror, of your life that makes your illusion of you possible.
I thought I was human; I am merely shadow, negative space.
Light’s Negative Space
Head Tree by Odilon Redon