I broke into your house not knowing what I was looking for. You, maybe.
Instead there’s an overturned stroller in the living room. Piles of clothes that must be yours. Empty picture frames like open mouths. Your mother’s dishes.
You’re dead, and I’m dying.
Through every window you watch me from the dark porch, waiting for me to say it. Waiting for me to open my mouth.
In the attic the rain is deafening. And you’re down there somewhere. Sprawled on the garage roof or the front lawn or Cherry Avenue. In every memory your eyes are already vacant. I never liked it up here, the sloping ceiling pressing down to meet me, and all the sleeping rooms below.
There aren’t any stars tonight, and anyway they’re not for us. You’re dead. And I killed you. And I’m dying.
Jen Kolic is a writer, editor, and know-it-all living in Denver. She co-hosts Queen City Companion with Brian Flynn, and Mutiny Book Club with Byron Graham. Jen enjoys cats, junk food, and mystery novels, ideally all at once.
Photo: Yener Ozturk