Imports by Julianne Neely


There are imports right now in your living room. The television has seen things your eyes would melt from. The couches were beaten, dragged, held prisoner of free enterprise. They finally found a home and now you sit on them. Walls move and paint cackles. Watching it is like watching a girl walk up the stairs. The curtains are opaque and seem careless. Look what’s outside or don’t. He loves you he loves you unconsciously. The ceiling fan hasn’t spun in years. Thank your lucky God for that.


Before I begin the day, I always perform a ballet with my fingers. Although, Thumb can never lace up its pointe shoes. What is? The pith of this floor. And what’s the point? Of a baby seeing an odd contraption, touching, and then living in space forever. I took all the pictures out of their frames and placed them on the ground. You step over them like air. I take it as a compliment how you’ve begun mistaking me for furniture. A girl on television just thanked God for making her an artist. I turn it off. You say I thought that was nice. Hasn’t the television been through enough?

Julianne Neely, 22, is a recent graduate from CUNY with a degree in Cinema Studies and English Writing. She is an intern with VIDA: Women in Literary Arts, and has freelanced for Sesame Street! She plans on pursuing an MFA degree in the fall of 2016.