eight thirty-nine p.m.

eight thirty-nine p.m. • Shauri Cherie

i’m alone in a house,

                                        the house,

my house,      barricaded in my bed by the monstrous mountain of blankets i’ve accumulated & pillows my depressive thoughts decided i needed & on my left is a broken dresser swiped from my cousin that i use as a stand for goose the fish who prefers his food in flakes instead of pellets & as night slips in through                                                                                                                                                                             my window,

                         the window,

                                                           a window,

                                                                                                                                       i stare at a white ceiling and wonder—