3/29/2021 Poetry by August Bennet Dane CC eventide Night is rustling in your chest cavity, deep, dark winds swirling unrepentant and chilled. You are not alone. Have you ever been truly alone? Night watches you through eyes reflecting like mirrors in the brush. You slap a mosquito against your arm and the insect bursts, red and sticky, warm with your own blood. Night drinks you in, its horns sharp and body misshapen. Can you see the night? Can you smell it? It can smell you. Tell me about oppressive darkness that weighs heavy, wet cloth. Tell me about the sound-- hooves against dirt, a human stance. A shotgun, off in the distance. Tell me about the night and how it swallowed you whole. REFLECTIONS ON THE LAUNDROMAT, 2005 is it possible to cut the red tie between the memory ; the family where light is distorted by time ripples in the fluorescence a pocket for corduroy was spread across my lap that day stuffed bear in the crevice of my arm unsalted almonds clacked against teeth, against floor now, i can almost make out the faintest silhouette of what i once loved stuck to the detergent splatters on the floor my grandmother’s hair curled at the shoulder dyed black, no hint of the gray that permeated the roots my mother beside her, not daring to look each other in the eye two backs facing me warm towels folded with too much force what does it mean to be a grandchild? where can we push the blame? tucked away in a cart pushed against the wall listening, listening fervent whispers that bite, the constant machine rumble of water and cloth the scrape of forgotten metal ; a heartbeat i did not forget my teddy bear at the laundromat that day but i will spend the rest of my life feeling like i had August Bennet is a college student attending the University of Wisconsin-Green Bay, enrolled in the BFA program for Writing & Applied Arts. Currently, they are the editor-in-chief of UW-Green Bay’s undergraduate staffed Journal of Art and Literature, Sheepshead Review. Their work appears in past issues of Sheepshead Review and Northern Lights. Comments are closed.
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