My new apartment is larger than it
Should be; so, I find ways to fill it.
Last week I walked to the Water and
Brought back Lake Erie, waded in my
Wants of being a good Daughter. I watched the
Water well in the cracks of my cedar
Floor until my eyes were
Sore.
This week I brought More. Melville and
Thoreau, Plath and Woolf. Frozen
Pizza and aging fruit. Moments I fall
Mute and cannot compute. Moments I
Laugh with Friends about the Loot I’ve
Gathered here. About all I’ve brought
Near: Selfless love to hold me by the
Kitchen Table when I’m not Able.
Breakfast and more and crumbs and
More and mirrors and rugs and
Sediment from my shoes and Elliott Smith
And The Beatles and Bob Dylan and Radiohead
And Bowie and more and more and more until the
Air couldn’t find me anymore.
all the while my mother’s curtains given for lack of my own
breathe, watch, wrestle;
letting in the light like waves along this hardwood shore.
She opened her eyes to her alarm clock within the darkness of her room. It was 7:03 pm. How long did this one last, 20 minutes? Her interview was scheduled for 8:00 pm. Her mother won’t have to come in again and pull the sheets off her this time. She can breathe easily.
She walked out her room door. The hallways were completely empty. Her heartbeat was louder than ever, and it seemed like nobody was around to hear it.
There was a part of her that wanted to go back to sleep. She bumped into the door as she went to the bathroom to freshen up. She nearly tripped over air as she removed her formal outfit from her closet. She struggled to focus when she checked herself in the mirror. Everything was blurry. She couldn’t even see her own face.
She didn’t know how she arrived downstairs, past the dark hallways, she was met with a dimly lit kitchen area. Her mother had her back turned to the stove.
“Mom?” she whispered. “Where is everyone?” Her three siblings were nowhere to be found. “MOM!” she screamed as her mother never turned around.
“Hey,” she heard from a soft voice behind her. Too soft to be her father’s voice. “Stop yelling.”
She didn’t bother to turn around. “Well, why won’t she answer me? Mom!”
She was about to grab her mother’s shoulder until she noticed her slowly, very slowly, starting to turn around.
Fear began to burn through her head, pulsating in waves of dizziness as she waited for her mother to face her.
She was sadly relieved to see her mother’s expression of disappointment, but her head was still hot and the knot in her stomach was not becoming loose. At least she wasn’t angry.
“Wake up,” she quietly said.
“What?”
“WAKE UP! You’re going to miss your interview!”
“Wait, what do you mean? I’m awake and ready.” Her vision started getting fuzzy.
“I told you to wake up already. How come you never LISTEN?!”
“What the hell?” Her voice was clouded by the rustling noise of bedsheets. “Seriously, what are you talking about?”
She opened her eyes, shocked by the immediate wave of cold air clashing with the sweat across her face. Her sheets were on the floor, and her door was open. The hallways were brightly lit. She turned to her alarm clock: 7:30 am. She turned her head to the wall on her left and saw her calendar with today’s date marked: Interview at 7:45.
Shit.