Kolasch.com

She sits on the couch, legs crossed
and skirt taut against her thighs. Her head
leans into the cushions, hair pillowing
like an auburn mane.

An overturned frame shares
the seat with her, hiding its face
in the brown microfiber upholstery.
Like it’s ashamed to be seen crying,

but it can’t hold back anymore. An alarm
clock buzzes from the bedroom,
and she stirs, but doesn’t rise.

The alarm silences, and she pulls her feet
underneath her, bumping the frame to the floor.
It lands on the Berber with a sigh,

mimicking the whisking of her skirt shifting.
Footsteps in the hall, and she opens
her eyes to the sun, to be blind for a moment
while she hears the door open and close.

A sound swallowed by the light
through shrouded windows,
she steps down, cracking
his glass smile,

one red foot, over and over, and she closes
the door behind her.

JKolasch