A CLEAN VOID PAINTS A SILHOUETTE WHERE YOUR DRESSER WAS, Charlene Ashley Taylor

A clean void paints a silhouette where your dresser was
by Charlene Ashley Taylor

I taste the antique grime that caked its mirror. Sinking into the sand carpet, I think of the paint on your jeans and markers without caps. I think of when you would pirouette down the hall, your arms up to hug the ghost that led you – heel toe spin again and again until you spilled your high, stumbling with a smile. The moment I saw the boxes I became the candle wax on the television, the cat piss snuggled on your pillow, the mold in our coffee pot. I became the starved snake that stunk for a week – until you noticed the trash and scattered ashes, loose threads etched in the floor. A clean void paints a silhouette where your dresser was and I taste the antique grime that caked its mirror.

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*