You Are a Dorm in the Summer
Via Nelson #37.1
“Heartsong” by Rebecca Kartchner
A breeze unlatched a door down the hall from mine,
once a respite from the contention at home,
now a soulless remainder;
vacated with a window left open.
I wandered naively forward to investigate the draft,
pulled in closer by adoration,
sweet and deceitful.
Now at the entrance of this temporary shelter,
the once gentle air began to force me out,
still I pressed my way in.
Witnessing the center of you;
flat bloodless walls,
silent pulseless sink,
pale-skinned ceiling,
an empty ribcage.
In your center on my knees I begged to keep crumbs,
combing my fingers through the carpet,
landing upon a red barrette,
seizing it immediately so as to savor you.
I felt its smoothness lay beneath my fingers,
remembering your skin,
my hands along the place where your spine should be.
Holding on longer to you,
until the last color wore off,
the final gasping embers of an old flame getting snuffed.
Looking outside the reckless window,
down in the dirt,
the slowly rotting apple,
that you once held in your hands and ate from.