We came together
Rain on glass
Running off the surface
The wet walk home
Doors close and stay that way
The elevator pulls against my feet
Cables hum behind my teeth
My fingers smell like you
The ceiling closes in
My left sock is under your bed,
Your eyes are on the floor
You close the door, it stays that way
A muted ding
Doors open to the flood
My feet sink into asphalt
Sidewalks warp and wilt
I seep into the gutter
Nameless discard
Sunlight trickles through the grates
The sky is smaller here, the birds
are somewhere else
Walden Brooks’ work has also appeared in Bruiser Magazine.