Instead of Dying

instead of Dying

After Lauren Haldeman

Instead of dying, you move into my apartment. It is small, we share a bed. You keep blowing smoke out the window. I get upset because you are not a train. We get navy blinds. We bake mac & laugh about glasses. We hang up the prayer rug from Turkey. We play Minecraft & the violin. You play piano. You ask me to sing. Once a week, we pick flowers we find in other people’s gardens. We put them in a crystal vase. Instead of dying, instead of being dismembered, instead of being shoved into your closet & all that, you work at Mellow Mushroom making pizzas: smashing tomatoes, always covered in flour. Your body stays your body & you listen to Romantic Works & your addiction goes away & we lie sober in the light of the Tuesday sun & you are so very very not dead.

AS ORIGINIALLY PUBLISHED IN SOLSTICE LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 1: VOL 1, NO 1.