the emergence

cool, to the touch. Whatever we bring through the stairwell

each morning, greeting similar heads

a growling in the chest and, though fruit filled the streets, coffee

brought hope. Looking, out the window

there was always another window, landscaped

polka dots, smaller faces, hints of appliances and

the brick wall where each brick was somehow

the same. The whole world in your wake

the whole world just sleepwalks. Gleaning.

The door was a hungry animal

a friend altogether the same. But a cat bearing fruit in its mouth

why she was a pillow, a tall glass of lemonade.

Like when her legs are bound and fish is dangled. A simplicity that was worth it.

Tragically, when she bolted out the door, she left only a human.

—jared schickling