danger: keep out

frayed sneaker rubber catches
on raised and split slab
denim sticks
but the pause
and retuned
she notices the derelict building
the way the plywood is peeled up
from the corner of the window
like an invitation that she can’t say no to
and the sign warning against it
is just encouragement
and there isn’t anyone around
caring enough to notice
she supposes
a quick peek can’t hurt
more shifting eyes
and sure enough
dry rot makes doors of barricades
with little leverage
and her slightness gets through quickly
and easy
she lands
a plume shoots up from the dust-bed
as eyes adjust
crepuscular rays riddle the deteriorating bar
and the air is the musty rosy
of mold and funeral parlors
shards of mirror mark toothy
the temple of bottle
now un-stocked and patron-less
green dots the artificial wooden paneling
and she wonders if any amount of scrubbing
would be enough
as the sound of glass rolling
beyond the bathroom door
makes her drop her phone
turned snapshot processor
on stinging knees
she spiders frantic hands
through the rubble
to recover the precious object
something between flesh and bone
but colder than anything she’s ever known
delicately rests a hand on her shoulder
fuck the phone
she skitters back out the window
unwilling to discover their owner
two blocks closer to home
lungs heaving fiery and ragged
she grabs a glance backward
the vice grip loosens slightly
but she doesn’t stop running
front door
dead bolt
back door
kitchen knife
more locks and a chair for good measure
cover and bed and she has to stop shaking
she begins to rationalize
to lie
it’s alright

and nearby
her phone rings


About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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