care to test my limits? unhinge the breaths
and scribbled works that comes with the day? you won’t like it. it's like
rotten apples sitting stagnant in an open cupboard that stinks of cheese (the
owners will never let us back in). the strings pluck arteries and veins sans
fer, lungs itch into throat yet breathing isn’t difficult. no pain no gain. but there’s a blockage, obstruction, arret and it hurts in some part of you. crescendo
of sirens and reversing salt trucks, the snow sticks to my hair even when I’m
outside. rush in and the neighbour’s granddaughter trudges home from school.
lavender jacket, lilac striped toque and a GREEN
backpack, the strap over her chest holding the colours together. stompstomp
shuffle click slam. a story over, closed by a door like the man walking a dog who
never smiles at you, as though he resents his friend’s tenants. just go to sleep
and it’ll be over – a butterfly pinch away from parked cars under blinking
street lights.