by Megan Morgan
A poem I wrote for class.
|There are stars|
that we gave names
as we sat on the balcony
reaching through the fog with heavy arms
to point to “Twinkle” or “Spot”.
And as we laughed at our lack of creativity,
we stared at each other
or tried as hard as we could
to focus our red, dilated eyes
on anything we could see
to keep ourselves attached to the earth.
And when we were bored of star-gazing,
we moved together in an instant
or an hour.
I couldn’t tell.
And when we made our way into the house,
we tore at each other and
sounds of ripping clothes and
buttons bouncing off walls and
our heaving breaths
filled our ears as we came together.
And in the morning when the haze was gone,
you grabbed your clothes and
walked out the door as
I laid still on the floor in a tangle of sheets.
And when I got up,
I found the buttons of your shirt and put them on the
one nightstand next to my bed.