The Passed Note Issue 4 June 2017 - Page 31


Here in the corners of seaside towns

we've been cutting teeth on our resentment,

pressing gums to the edge of glass,

gnawing windowsills like the forgotten

animals we found inside our chests.

Did you feel it—the shift to captivity,

from wilderness to concrete cisterns,

from field to fenced-in stage? Here,

we’re reduced to digging up our old bones

and burying all the ambition we have left.

What was it you said on the twin mattress

next to mine? Did you make me promise

to escape? I don’t remember

but if this door opens I’m getting out.