safety in shambles
summer afternoons
tend to feel like mornings
as spring classes wind down
and there’s a breath before fall
the dogs clobber around upstairs
making their voices known
the cats meow and beg
even after a big meal
the dollar store blanket
shields the sunlight
from peaking through
not yet ready to face the day
still tired from late night chatting
but cars rev up their engines
leaving for day jobs, errands,
only they know
and we just sit here talking
as the yellowed walls watch us
spots telling their own story
the floor has its own city
cluttered in trinkets
which we swear
we’ll clean this weekend
and here i sit
all cozy in my favorite blanket
ignoring holes that make my legs cold
on our thrifted couch
thrown out by the neighbor
guess that’s why trash can be treasure
we just talk for hours
forgetting about the world
and all its responsibilities
about the rent due in 3 days
the electricity due in 4
the apartment
that’s just falling apart
but who cares?
when this kind of safety
means everything to me
a kind of safety that I’ve never known.
3 thoughts on "safety in shambles"
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Nothing can ever quite take the place of genuine human connection, can it? Thank you for the honesty you’ve shared in this poem.
Oh oh oh! The heart of this poem:
the floor has its own city
cluttered in trinkets
which we swear
we’ll clean this weekend
and here i sit
all cozy in my favorite blanket
ignoring holes that make my legs cold
Awesome! And at the end, the specifics to flesh out the responsibilities — love it. Thanks for sharing this. “The floor has its own city.” That’s going to stick with me. Sounds like my apt and the dog toys! LoL
the poem is a comfort to inhabit. love especially “the floor has its own city”