and besides

Because without you, things fall apart, and besides, I love you
 
the cursive on the
wallpaper seems to be
crawling
 
tonight and I can’t
quite
put my finger on
 
why it shouldn’t
since there’s an
onion
 
sprouting, its
 
green tip curling in a
fragrant
diffidence
 
like the whole room is saying,
hey you,
 
kid,
what took you
so damn long,
you finally missed
us
 
enough
 
to come back
and wash some bubbles
free of the hot water
 
and walk this floor
counting down until the
boards creak
 
under my feet in answer,
a reminder that the familiar
is a threat of
 
sound and shutthehellup and
 
the law of
decay, a promise that
 
all things fall, fall
from the webs and dust across
the kitchen ceiling and
 
that all I can do
 
is stand here, eyes
feeling wide
shut. 


january 2011, copyright sarah hirsch