by cassie lewis
I jolt awake. Remember beer for breakfast
in seedy bars. Furnishings close in, suddenly, their sweat.
What is this wanderlust
Stay here wrestling smallest things,
this broken morning.
It is unremitting â€”
must I force this door?
Haven. You sit still in your chair,
like an absolution. Each of your knuckles burns
white hot on the armrest. You are a saint,
I just pose as someone awake.
How do I tear this parcel open? Are you
the glow inside?
I wiped the smoke off the walls
but I canâ€™t stop the forest.
It blows through the doorâ€™s wooden slats as
we confer. Late night TV
glares, and murmurs
‘Iâ€™ll love you through this.’