Poetry by Sarah Morris Shux

Carl Wycoff CC




The House Attempts To Tear Itself Down

After the first attempt, the police were called
And the woman was told to buy a gun,
Store it under the bed beside the boxes full of photographs
And the thick dust trails from
The sliding and pushing 
During the second and the third
The gun lay forgotten 
Because these things happen so quickly 
And the cop said, “dead or alive” but at this point
They preferred dead
It makes things easier for everyone
The man was skinny but he was strong
They say these kinds of patients have almost
Superhuman strength
Which explains the five nurses that were required
To strap him down
And the three story window
That he jumped out of
And the wooden door that he busted down so easily 
A hammer through drywall 
In order to get to the woman again
For the third time
Doors will not keep him out
Til death do us part
Til death do us part
A lost ring will not keep him out
Recently I asked my mother what happened to it
She says that she does not know
And she does not look for it

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Sarah Morris Shux (she/her)  is a poet, screenwriter and short story writer currently living in Los Angeles with her very loud Siamese cat, King Tut and her sweet black lab, Sami. She enjoys obsessing over ghost stories, roller skating, stress baking and spending too much money on vinyl records and weird, antique tchotchkes. Find her words published in Sledgehammer Lit, Not Deer Magazine, Superfroot amongst others and on Medium. Find her on social media: @awwshux on Instagram and @MsShux on Twitter.