Construction Literary Magazine

Spring 2018

part IV

part IV
Photograph via Flickr by hobvias sudoneighm

no words pass between us.

            •

the cotton coat hangs in the passage waiting for cool weather. I touch it as I pass. sometimes when I pass I press my face against the cloth. its smell is human.

removing my shoes I lean against the wall for balance. I lean against the coat.

             my mother’s old coat. a house for the napping child.
             the teacher’s coat against the rain. my own coats.
             each worn for years. each. a house. to hide in.

            preferred of all garments.

            •

do you suppose if I displease them they will let me leave me to die if you live a life of secrets it’s hard to make friends if I were a tree I should not be very tall I grow so slowly

            •

now. unsafe. I struggle. but I can see myself.

            •

I try coloring outside the lines.