Seated by Beth Rosell


It’s how he saw them

How he painted their portraits

Watched them walk, creaking, stiff

Not really going anywhere

He saw them lumber

Saw the lumber that made them up

Standing was such hard work

Being human was such hard work

Take your rest, he suggested

And they would come to him

Slowly bend knees, back straight

They would relax into rigidity

Chests would open

First exposing lungs, heart, bones

Then they would disintegrate

Till there were two long columns

Columns you could see through

Their backs turned into chair

Rods holding their shoulders up

Shafts pinned into hips

They became merged flesh and wood

Grew legs out of their behinds

More chair then human now

Though their heads remained intact

Eyes darting, mouths moving

He saw them and painted their truth

That they were unable to move

To move out of their own existence

Elizabeth Rosell lives in Northern Ontario, Canada, with her cat Belle. She has spent her life working in the non-profit field, inspired by her own mental health issues with borderline personality disorder. Elizabeth has been published in Lived Magazine, Amsterdam Quarterly and Literary Cocktail. When not writing, she spends her spare time crafting and baking.

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